


Absence

by rubeanddodo



Category: Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 46,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubeanddodo/pseuds/rubeanddodo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An imagining of what may have happened after the end of the book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely not a laugh fest though you may find a few things that bring a smile. I suggest a stiff drink while reading it.

_I started this story a couple of years ago. I will forewarn you, I have not had it beta'd though Bluey and Princess did read it over at that time and gave me their thoughts on it. I apologize for any glaring spelling and/or grammatical errors._

**Absence from whom we love is worse than death...William Cowper**

The soft hiss of the gaslight was intermittently drowned out by sudden squalls of wind throwing hard rain against the tall windows. The luxurious room was dimly lit, a small coal fire burned and shadows danced with the wavering light. A gray tabby cat curled herself beside a small form which was almost lost in the large, ornately carved bed draped with a deep red coverlet. A plump ginger haired woman bent beside the bed, offering water from a heavy glass goblet.

"I'd prefer a brandy." a raspy voice said. A chuckle came from the other side of the bed.

"I'm sure you would Mother, but for now water will have to do."

Wade's brown eyes filled with sadness, looking at his mother. Her body was emaciated, her arms as thin and delicate as a sparrow's. Her cheeks were sunken and there was a gray cast to her skin. The brilliant emerald green eyes of her youth had now faded to a pale jade. Her once Indian black hair was now an elegant silver.

The cat who purred loudly,as Scarlett stroked her, the heavy diamond and emerald ring slipped to the side of her gaunt finger.

"Please Mother, have some water, just a sip at least."

"Ah, Ella, you have always been such a good girl for me." Scarlett obediently sipped some of the water and then a painful cough racked her slight body. Gasping for breath, she struggled to sit up. Ella held her round her bony shoulders and when the spasm had finally passed, she gently wiped the spittle the bluish lips.

"Where are my grandchildren?" rasped Scarlett.

"They're downstairs with Robert, would you like to see them?"

"No, I don't want to give them nightmares. Death is never a pleasant sight, especially for a child."

"But you aren't dying, Mother. You just have a bad cold!"

"Don't try to sugar coat, Ella. I'm dying, I have pneumonia - don't you think I didn't hear that fool doctor, mumbling away to you and Wade and acting like I wasn't here?"

Ella's eyes filled with tears and her mouth quivered. Scarlett patted her plump hand. "Hush, babygirl, don't cry. My mother used to always call pneumonia 'The Old Man's Friend'. It's not so bad, really. There are worse ways to die. It would be better with a tot of brandy though."

Ella's tears spilled over and she tried unsuccessfully to stifle her sobs. Scarlett tightened her lips and waited until Ella gathered control. "Do you know, I'm feeling like some of your special beef tea. Would you be a pet and get me some?"

Ella, thankful to be able to do something to help, dabbed her eyes and leaning over, kissed Scarlett on her cheek. "I love you, Mama."

"I know dear, I know." Ella left the sickroom and Scarlett struggled to take a deep breath. "That should keep her busy for a while. I can't stand all this mourning and weeping. I'm glad I'll be dead soon so I can miss the worst of it."

"You are a tough nut, aren't you Mother."

"I've never been one for sentimentality. Come here so I can see you better." Wade walked around the bed and sat beside her, taking her tiny hand in his. "When I look at you I can see what your father would have looked like if he had survived the War."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? It's not your fault he died nor your fault you take after him." Scarlett croaked." Why have you never married? Aunt Pitty must be spinning in her grave. You are the last of the Atlantan Hamiltons, you know. I'm surprised she doesn't haunt you every night."

"I've never found anyone to compare with you - nor one that would meet with your approval."

"Fine words, Wade, but then you are a lawyer and I know how silver tongued your sort can be." She smiled remembering another man that waited to marry. " Well, there's still time for you, I suppose."

"I'm sorry you are dying."

"Hmmphh, well we all do you know."

Wade smiled, " 'Nothing is certain in this world but death and taxes.' "

"Very true and I hate them both. I have written out my last wishes. They are in that drawer." Scarlett pointed to her ornate vanity covered with it's powders and perfume bottles. "And of course my will is in the safe of Hamilton, Crane & Hamilton."

"Phillip is planning on stopping by to visit you after work."

"No, I don't want to see him. Send him my kind regrets."

"He cares deeply for you, Mother. Pity.."

"Pity! How I despise that word." Scarlett sharply said but her eyes softened when she looked at her son. "No need for pity, Wade. I have lived a long life. I have two surviving children who care for me, despite my failure at being a good mother. I have three grandchildren who think what a rip their Grandmama is and I have a cat who may miss me for a day or two."

"But not a husband."

"I had one of those, three in fact." A sudden cough ripped through her. On and on it went as if it would never stop. Tears ran down her cheeks and her eyes looked panicky. Wade held her up, stroking her back, praying for the painful hacking to stop. Finally, Scarlett was able to take a shuddering breath. Wade gave her another sip of water and plumped up the pillows behind her back.

"Damn this cough. Dying would be a breeze without it. " Scarlett whispered, her voice scratched and her throat sore. "Leave me now Wade. I'm tired and I'd like to sleep."

"Anything I can get you?"

"No. Take the cat, she'll probably lie on my chest and I don't want to make a murderer out of her."

Wade picked up the sleepy cat and promptly dropped her, putting his hand to his mouth.

"Watch out, she scratches."

"Thank you for the warning." The cat, her tail straight up with indignation, strutted to the door with Wade following behind.

"Oh and Wade, tell the children to make lots of noise. Let them play the Victrola and bang on the piano. That should annoy Bob."

"Don't you like Ella's husband, Mother?"

"He's alright - for a Yankee banker. I just like tweaking his pompous nose." Scarlett said with the ghost of her old dimpled smile. Wade left the door slightly ajar as he went off to speak to his niece and nephews.

Scarlett took a deep breath, trying to get air to fill her lungs. She started to choke again and she willed herself not to cough. Turning on her side, her eyes were drawn to the heavy silver frame on her bedside table. The daguerreotype of Rhett gazed back at her. His body stiff, having to hold himself still for the photographer but his black eyes danced with devilishness and his smile was jubilant. The picture had been taken on their honeymoon in New Orleans. He was happy then, before all the disappointments and deaths that were to come.

Why hadn't she noticed then? He would have given her the moon on a string if she had asked. If only she had known how much he loved her and how much she needed him. He had told her at the end, she was so cruel to those that loved her - but would it have made any difference if she had known? Would the hurt have been any more?

Scarlett had traveled down these roads of thought so often since the night of Melly's death they were cut into her mind but they always reached the same dead end.

"Ah, Rhett..."Scarlett whispered.

She opened the drawer of the table and took out a well laundered handkerchief. It was the last from a set of three that Melly had given her the final Christmas she was alive. They had been delicately embroidered by Melly in her neat little stitches with a spray of three forget-me-nots gathered with a pale green ribbon. Scarlett dabbed her eyes, trying to stem the tears.

                                                                           ********************

After that night when Scarlett's whole world had crashed, when the two people she had most loved and depended upon had left her, she had wondered if she would survive. The War, the Yankees, the new order of the world hadn't licked her. She had fought and struggled and survived. But she had had Melly and she had had Rhett beside her then and now she was alone.

Looking back, she could see she had been in shock those days following Melly's passing. She had organized details, made all the arrangements for the viewings, the flowers, the funeral and the tea following. She had bolstered Ashley and let Pitty weep on her shoulder. She had comforted the children and did all she could to give Melly the proper farewell. She hadn't cried though, she had put her pain and sorrow to the side because she knew if she let even one tear escape, she would have been no use to anybody. She kept her mind on Tara and the strengthening thought that soon this heavy load would be lightened.

A week later, she and the children had disembarked at the Jonesboro depot. Scarlett stepped on to the platform and was surprised by how busy it was there. She called a porter over and went with him to ensure all the bags were unloaded. He followed behind her as she made her way to the depot's entrance. There was Will standing beside the wagon, chewing on a grass stalk, softly speaking to the horse as he stroked it's neck. Spying Scarlett, he tossed the grass away and made his way over to the small group.

"Welcome home Scarlett. Wade, my how you have grown, looks to me like your almost a man. And who is this pretty young lady? Surely it can't be Miss Ella? My girls are very excited to have a tea party with you." Will took the heavy bags off the porter's cart and easily tossed them into the back of the wagon. "Prissy, you can sit back here." He gave Scarlett his hand and helped her up onto the seat of the wagon and waited for the children to scramble up behind.

"Walk on Gypsy." The roan horse pulled forward and started them on their way. The horse walked and then with a flick of the reins broke into a steady trot.

"My condolences, Scarlett. Miss Melly was a special lady and we will all miss her. You more than most, I expect." Will said with his gentle voice.

Scarlett held her handkerchief tightly and forced herself not to cry. "Thank you Will." She switched the subject and started to interrogate Will on Tara and the crops. The rest of the ride home, he spoke of the year's crops and ideas for the next planting. Scarlett listened closely but her mind continued to wander towards home. Nearing the final turn of the road, Scarlett breathed in deeply, now she would find comfort again. The fences had been mended and the house stood strong. Scarlett could see all the improvements that had been made and though Tara was not the plantation she had once been, she still was beautiful. Scarlett waited for the feeling of peace and strength she had always felt on seeing Tara again, but it didn't come.

They made their way down the drive and stopped at the porch where two little pale blonde girls waited. "Mama, they're here, they're here!" one called out, the other jumped up and down with excitement. Wade and Ella leapt down and ran to visit with their cousins. Scarlett stayed still, looking at Tara, waiting for the peace she should feel by now.

"Scarlett?" Will held out his hand to her. Scarlett stepped down and walked up the porch stairs. Sue Ellen stood at the door, a coolness about her. "Hello Scarlett - how was the train trip? Scarlett perfunctorily kissed Suellen on the cheek, the coldness between the sisters still icy. Following Sue into the house, Scarlett paused in the hallway. Something was missing - the air, the smell of the house- her mother's scent, lemon verbena wasn't there - that smell that was home to her had gone. Why had she never noticed that before?

Scarlett entered the front room and was startled to see the new furniture. The horse hair chesterfields and heavy oak tables jarred with the lines of the room. Pink velveteen drapes adorned the windows and the mantle was cluttered with cheap china figurines of simpering maids and lovesick shepherds. Scarlett was appalled at the sight, this was no longer the Tara she had been raised in. She realized that this was Sue Ellen's home now and she, as lady of the house, had the right to decorate it as she liked. Though it was Scarlett that had saved Tara, she that had poured her blood and sweat and money into, this house was not her's.

Sue Ellen, playing lady of the manor, poured out tea and started in with her pent up complaints. The country was so boring, the children such a trial, Will never understood how hard it was for her - on and on she moaned and whined. Scarlett sat on the slippery sofa and murmured polite responses periodically, her mind lost in a fog.

She heard a heavy tread and the floor boards groaning. The door opened and there stood Mammy - her face as black as coal though more lined than the last time Scarlett had seen her. Her small brown eyes were as alert, as sharp as they always had been and as loving.

"Mammy..." Scarlett whispered, her throat suddenly tight.

"My chile, Scarlett honey." Mammy grinned wide at Scarlett. The tight rein under which Scarlett had held herself suddenly snapped at the sight of her old nurse.

"Mammy" she sobbed "Mammy" Scarlett rose up and ran to the old woman and tightly grasped her. Mammy's large arms wrapped around her and held her close.

"Hush chile, yor Mammy's here. Hush now." Tears poured from Scarlett and she sobbed . All the tears and the thoughts she had put aside until she had the time came flooding out as the dam had finally broken. No one could stop the flow of tears and Scarlett was helped to her room. She curled into a small ball on the bed and cried inconsolably. She was as fragile and delicate as an old piece of parchment and the whole household worried for her.

Mammy stayed by her side, comforting her and listening to her heartbreak. Scarlett wouldn't eat and survived on the hot, sweet tea that Mammy pushed on her.

Scarlett mourned for her mother, Pa, sweet Bonnie and Melly. They had all gone without her being able to tell them how much she loved them or even realizing how important they were to her. Scarlett felt her heart pain with the loss of those that had meant so much to her and wondered if she would ever heal.

Early in the morning of the third day, Scarlett rose up from her bed and dressed in a simple wool dress. She quietly made her way downstairs and out the door to the burying grounds back of the house. There she knelt before her parent's tombstones. Ellen's, carved from rose marble, had a weeping angel, her wings folded forward, gracing the top. Gerald's was of black onyx with the Harp of Erin above his name.

The first year after her marriage to Rhett, Scarlett had hired the best Italian stonemason in Atlanta to make these markers. Scarlett remembered Mrs Tarleton spending money she didn't have on tombstones for her sons. How she had sneered at her, thinking what food could be bought what seed, with the hard come by money paid to a stone mason. Now she knew what those tombstones had meant to the Tarletons and to little Careen. Those markers proved lives lived and lives loved.

She noticed how tidy the small burial ground was and wondered who cared for it. A rambling rose, neatly pruned for the winter, arched over the decorative metal fence - another thing that Scarlett had had made. The original had gone to the War effort, melted down and made into cannons.

Three small stone tablets, set into the ground, bore the same name - Gerald O'Hara Junior.  Beside them was the grave of the young soldierboy they had buried after the War, his stone simply read "A Mother's Lost Son". It had been Melly's idea and Scarlett had been annoyed at paying good money for a stranger yet gazing at it now, she was glad. He was one of the too many young soldier boys that had been lost and it had pleased Melly to honour him.

The grass had been groomed and a there was a sense of peace here. A dove cooed from the pine trees behind. Scarlett sat for a time, waiting for the tears to start again and was surprised that instead she felt strong and calm. It was as if her parents were near and each was giving her a gift. From Ellen, her kind patience and from Pa, the spirit to battle. An energy stated to flow within her and part of her old self came back to Scarlett. The tenderness that had left her when she had laid behind the cabins of the ruined Twelve Oaks slowly seeped back into her. Scarlett gave thanks to them both and rose up. She gazed over to the house, hearing the sounds of pots banging in the kitchen as breakfast was being prepared. Her stomach rumbled, "My, I'm hungry." The tantalizing scent of coffee brewing wafted out to her and with a small smile and her back straight, Scarlett made her way back inside.

Scarlett recovered herself those days at Tara. She wandered the fallow fields and visited the places of her memories. The forests and the streams of Tara, the old trails and the green pastures. She returned to the woman she would have been if the War had never come. Her brittleness softened and a sense of compassion for others came over her. She faced the hurt and wrongs she had done to others and swore to herself she would try to make amends. She knew that many of the things she had done were to save others and even with hindsight would do the same things today. But still she vowed to try to repair the damage she had done.

The hardest thing she had to face was the hurt she had caused to Rhett. She envisioned the pain he must have felt. He had loved her for so long and yet had been too frightened to tell her, knowing she was infatuated with an old dream of Ashley.

What must of it been like, living with the woman you loved so deeply yet knowing she wanted another man? If only he could have told her. She agonized over the memory of sending Rhett from her bed, what had he felt then? She remembered how she had regretted the words the minute they were out of her mouth. She recognized that she had never really known Rhett - he had never let her.

Twice he had shown his true self to her. On the road to Rough and Ready and that night of Ashley's birthday party. Why hadn't she seen how much he loved her? He had told her yet she hadn't believed it, hadn't heard his words. She had been such a fool. Lost in a fairy tale of Ashley, the prince charming. Her anger rose and the bitter taste of ashes filled her mouth.. Ashley Wilkes - she wouldn't have him on a silver platter now, now when she had finally realized that it was Rhett she loved and Ashley was nothing more than an child who would cling to her skirts for the rest of time. Rhett was gone, gone to find a peace that he had never had with her.

And yet, Rhett had told her so many times that he didn't love her, that loving her could only cause heartache to any man. Time and again he had insulted her, belittled her. Did he think she was a mind reader?

Scarlett again and again went over what Rhett had told her when he had left her. Her impulse was to follow him, chase him, make him see how much she loved him, but her instinct told her that would be the worst thing she could do. He had said to her he needed his freedom and his peace of mind. She knew the surest way of never getting Rhett back would be to chase after him.

If she tried to follow him, Rhett would just keep running from her, the world was large and he would be able to hide from her. She knew that she would never be able to trick him or charm him, she had never been able to before.

He had told her his love had died and he was no longer interested in trying to pick up the pieces. She refused to believe it. She knew that a true love could never fully die.

The same feelings and determination of surviving the War came to her. She would get Rhett back. He would know how much she loved him and he would know how much he loved her. For he did love her, she knew it with her entire being. A man couldn't stay with a woman for so many years just to give up. He had her seen at her worst and had loved her throughout, he wasn't likely to stop loving her now. Rhett was not the kind of man to fold his hand. He was tired and he was mourning. Once he had a chance to heal, he would be back and she would be waiting for him.

_So there you go. I hope you didn't find it too melodramatic and that you may be interested in the next chapters._


	2. Chapter 2

And here we go with the next chapter. I give you fair warning, it is obscenely long. Poor DreamGWTW read it over for me and gave me her blessings but I then kept writing and adding more and more words. So she is not the least to blame for it's length nor any sense of boredom. Do you remember Evelyn Woods Reading Dynamics? Yes, you may want to brush up on it before starting this. And so on that note I give you -

ABSENCE – CHAPTER 2 

Courage isn't having the strength to go on - it is going on when you don't have strength.”  
― Napoleon Bonaparte

Scarlett shifted her position, trying to ease the deep pain in her chest. The door silently pushed open and the gray cat slinked back into the room. She smoothly jumped up onto the bed and began to knead the satin cover with her sharp nails as she purred loudly, staring at Scarlett with her amber eyes. The noise of the children banging away on the piano and running up and down the hallway filtered up the stairs. Scarlett smiled as she imagined Bob's stern look of displeasure at anything that wasn't correct and above board.  
She scratched the cat behind her ears. “I should have given you a name, old puss. I suppose it's too late now.” Time had run out for Scarlett.  
********************  
It took time but Scarlett did heal. As Mammy had once said, she just had to keep on being strong. Tara gave back to her the strength that had enabled her to battle against war, famine, Yankees and now it have given her the strength to battle her heartbreak.  
She returned to Atlanta – an Atlanta that had lost it's greatest lady. Melly was gone and she was mourned by all.  
For Scarlett it was even harder. She had no one to speak with of days gone by, no one to say “Do you remember when Melly said...do you recall how Melly...”  
She couldn't talk with Pitty – just saying Melly's name sent the old lady into heartbreaking sobs and her tears wouldn't be stemmed until she retired to bed with her swoon bottle.  
Scarlett had no one to reminisce with but it didn't stop her from old memories and she forced herself to think of them. To have put them away for another day would have been disrespectful to Melly and though she was late with her realization of what Melly had been to her, she would not slight now.  
Once Rhett had said that Melly was one of the grandest women he knew and finally Scarlett understood what he meant. She was a grand woman, as grand as Ellen, maybe more so. Scarlett missed her dreadfully and and in times of quiet, when Scarlett was curled up in her enormous bed trying to sleep, she would often whisper - “Melly, here I am – can you see me? How am I doing, sister? I miss you so, Melly.”  
Just thinking that Melly could hear her and was watching over her helped Scarlett.  
Atlanta waited to see what Scarlett's first move would be. They all knew that Rhett had left her and they watched to see how soon before she would be visiting Ashley, snaring him in her trap just as she had poor Mr. Kennedy, her own sister's intended. She would use her fast ways and her cosmetics and he being so devastated, why he would be putty in her hands.  
But Scarlett stayed far away from Ashley. Rather, her first order of business was to visit with India.  
The morning was grey and gloomy with a fine rain dampening the brightest of spirits. Scarlett was decorously garbed in mourning, her hair simply dressed, her eyes veiled with dotted black net draping from her small bonnet. She drove her own trap to the Peachtree Street house and walking through the small gate and up the porch stairs made Scarlett's legs weaken. Sharp memories flooded her mind - Melly should still be here, filling the house with her special warmth, sitting knitting socks for the soldiers, tending to Wade, pacifying Aunt Pitty and always, always standing up for Scarlett.  
“Give me strength Melly.” Scarlett whispered, as if in prayer.  
Straightening her back, she tapped the small brass cherub knocker on the cheerful blue door. She noticed the lace curtain shielding the parlour room window twitch and felt eyes glaring at her. Scarlett kept her chin up as she waited patiently on the porch. No matter how long she had to stand here, she wasn't going to leave.  
The door finally opened and there stood India, her hair pulled back tightly in a most unforgiving style, accenting her sunken cheeks and sharp chin, her black dress greening with age, her face withered in a twisted frown.  
Seeing Scarlett standing before her, as bold as brass, she said haughtily “What do you want Scarlett? Ashley doesn't live here or have you forgotten?”  
“How do you do, India? You are looking well.” Scarlett smiled as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. “I have come to speak to you. May I come in?”  
India would have liked nothing better than to slam the door in Scarlett's face but her curiosity overwhelmed her desire and she said with a smug smirk, “Why how lovely. Please come in Mrs. Butler, oh is that your name still or have you gone back to O'Hara?”  
Scarlett bit her tongue and pleasantly said “You may call me Scarlett, India. Haven't you known each other long enough to be on a first name basis?”  
India walked into the parlour leaving Scarlett to close the front door and follow into the fussy room, it's heavy draperies and scent of faded roses overwhelmed Scarlett, taking her back to memories of the past.  
India sat in the most comfortable chair and didn't offer Scarlett to sit.  
“Thank you for inviting me in, India.” Scarlett said placidly as she lifted her veil and removed her small kid gloves. “Shall I sit here next to you?” And without waiting for a reply, she took the other chair by the smoking fire - though lumpy with it's horsehair stuffing it luckily made her sit higher than India.  
“It is so nice to be back here again. It was my home for so many years during the War- oh silly me, it still is my house, isn't it? I actually own it you know, because of Charles.”  
India face mottled. “Oh dear Scarlett, it is so hard to keep all your husbands straight -which husband was Charles, your first or your second?”  
Scarlett was beginning to enjoy this war of words with her greatest enemy. “Why India, I am surprised you have such a poor memory. Charles, your cousin, was my first husband. Don't you remember he was originally expected to marry your sister Honey but then well, you know how love can be? Oh I'm sorry India – you wouldn't know would you, you still being unmarried. Spinster seems like such an unpleasant word but somewhat fitting. How nice it was that Honey was able to find her true love, how is she enjoying married life, is she still in Macon?” Scarlett dug it in deeply.  
“I imagine she is, I haven't heard from her since her last brat was born, no doubt she is busy with it and the rest of her brood.” India sourly said.  
Typical of India Wilkes to speak so disparagingly of her own sister. Her jealousy and envy knew no bounds. Scarlett looked at the pinched face of India and saw the dried up virgin she had become, unloved and unwanted. No doubt she still went to bed dreaming of Stu, imagining he had been her husband. What a merry hell she would have led him if Scarlett hadn't stepped in and made both Stu and Brent fall in love with her that long ago Courtday in Jonesboro. Scarlett smiled to herself.  
A memory of Pa coming to Atlanta to call out Rhett came to her. Pa had told her and Melly that Stu had started to court India again during the war.  
Maybe if India had had a man, been truly loved, she would have been kinder. Scarlett somewhat doubted it but she still felt a minor sense of guilt for taking away the only chance that India ever had to marry. Oh but if Stu had truly loved India he wouldn't have looked twice at her or any other girl. And if a girl couldn't hold on to her beau than she had no right to him. Why Rhett he had loved only her for how many years before.....  
“So you have returned to Atlanta have you? And what of Captain Butler?” India poured her tea, not bothering to ask Scarlett if she would like some.  
“What about Rhett, India?” Scarlett said guardedly.  
India smiled as she brought the thin, faded teacup to her lips. “Just something I heard.” She looked at Scarlett, her pale grey eyes with their colourless lashes glittering hatefully. “I heard Captain Butler finally came to his senses and left you.”  
Scarlett pealed with laughter. “Rhett? Leave me? Oh dear, India – you do make me laugh! You need to check your sources, they are not giving you very good information. No, my dear India – Rhett hasn't left me, far from it – how silly rumours are, they never get the true story, don't you agree?”  
India had the good grace to look away, a slight blush coming to her sharp cheeks. She felt sure of her information though - Mrs. Bonnells's maid had heard it from her brother who was the butcher's delivery boy that was sparking the kitchen maid at the red and gray eyesore that was the Butler's home on Peachtree Street.  
“Then where is he?” India shot back. “He has been gone for weeks. Why he didn't even attend Melly's funeral.”  
“No, he couldn't. He was brokenhearted when Melly died,” Scarlett paused, “Weren't we all?” she softly said, a lump forming in her throat.  
Rallying she said, “ But he had to go away on business. He is looking for something, I'm not sure what it is but once he finds it, he'll be back.” Scarlett said confidently.  
And he would be back, she knew it. Once he realized that she did love him and only him, he would come back. Scarlett held tightly on to this belief so she could stay sane through this nightmare she was living.  
“I got a letter from him just last week,” Scarlett lied, “ He wrote that things were progressing but not as quickly as he had hoped.”  
Leaning slightly towards India, Scarlett continued, “And that is why I have come to speak to you, dear India.” Scarlett switched to her most charming self. “I have an idea and when I thought about it I could think of no better person than you to help me with it.”  
“You must be desperate Scarlett if you came to me.” India scoffed. “I am sure I can't and won't help you no matter what your idea.”  
“Hear me out India before you say no.” Scarlett looked into India's eyes and saw the hate within. “When Melly was d...the last time I spoke to Melly, she asked me for two things – one was to care for Beau as if he was my own, that is easily done and the other, which is more difficult, was to watch over Ashley.”  
“How perfect for you, Scarlett. No doubt you some how convinced poor Melly it would be best if you took care of him. I will never permit my brother to marry you, Scarlett so you might as well leave here now.” India said poisonously.  
Scarlett breathed in deeply, looking at the stupid woman who had spread such lies and viscous rumours and wishing she could slap her.  
“You are wrong, India, so very wrong.” Scarlett kept her tone even. “ I know what you and everyone else thinks – but you have all been dead wrong. I love my husband more than you could ever know and it is because of that and because of what you just said that I have come to you. Your response only underlines what I want to suggest.”  
“Oh honestly...” India sneered.  
“Yes India – honestly. I know it wouldn't do for me to be in the company of Ashley,a recently widowed man, even though we are simply old friends, not while Rhett is out of town.” Scarlett calmly said keeping her temper in check . “And I am sure you don't want Ashley or Beau for that matter to be tarred with the same brush.”  
India scoffed, “If you think I am going to go around singing your virtues, don't bother asking Scarlett.” “No India, I have no doubt on that score. No, what I want is for you to act as - well, a chaperone for want of a better word. I need someone above reproach to be with me anytime I need to discuss business with Ashley.”  
If Scarlett had said she was taking the veil, India would have been less shocked.  
“Why ask me?” she said suspiciously.  
“If I may talk plainly, it is because everyone knows that there is very little love lost between us. You would never permit anything less than proper behaviour. India, I need to do this -for Melly.”  
Scarlett spoke again. “She asked me to help Ashley and I have to do it so that he doesn't realize I am helping. Oh India, you know that Ashley was not raised to be a mill owner, he was raised to read learned books and to enjoy fine company but the old world has gone and if he is to survive he needs our help! If you don't want to help me then do it to help him.”  
“And if I say no?” India replied.  
“Then I will have to find someone else to help. Mrs. Meade possibly or Mrs. Elsing. But come hell or high water, I will honour my promise to Melly.” Scarlett stated.  
India wished that Scarlett would stop bringing up Melly – the memory of her refusing to see her as she lay dying haunted her. She had wanted to make peace with her, to apologize but Melly would not let her. Ever since she had prayed for forgiveness from her and felt a deep shame that she had hurt Melly so badly.  
Scarlett spoke again. “ I would pay you for your time – ten dollars a week.”  
India was shocked. A lady didn't work for a pay packet, how dare Scarlett even suggest such a thing. Oh but ten dollars a week, how nice it would be to feel like she was worthy and not just the poor relation, dependant on someone else for one's food and lodging. To have money of her own.  
“What precisely would I have to do?”  
Scarlett felt India softening.  
“Nothing but stick beside me whenever I need to deal with Ashley and if anyone should ask what happens when I am there, just tell them the truth - Ashley and I are discussing the mills. There is one thing though...”  
'Oh here it comes,' thought India, 'here comes the part about staying outside while Scarlett 'discusses' things with Ashley.'  
Scarlett continued, “I would need you to promise not to mention to anyone the details of the business. We have to make a success of the mills and there are too many competitors that would love to know what our plans are for them. I imagine for the first few weeks we will need to go there fairly often but after I have gotten things back on track it would be no more than once a week. Do you need some time to think it over? I would like to know soon as I am sure the mills are bleeding money right now.”  
India sipped more of her now luke warm tea – to be able to keep a sharp look out over Scarlett and her wiles and to be paid ten dollars, why that was icing on the cake .  
“ I accept your proposal. For Melly and for Ashley.” India stretched out her long neck. “When will you need me?”  
Scarlett wanted to slap the smug look off India's face but instead said, “It is too late today so I will pick you up at nine-thirty tomorrow morning, I expect we will be there for at least three hours. Is that agreeable to you?”  
India bowed her head in acceptance.  
“Thank you India. I appreciate your help and I'm sure Melly does too.”  
India smiled. “Well, anything for Melly. Would you care for some tea, Scarlett?”  
***********************  
Mrs. Meade was dead-heading the rose bushes bordering her front walk when she spied Scarlett's garish red and black victoria drive past, pulled by the perfectly matched pair of bays wearing their red plumes.  
“That Scarlett O'Hara, she certainly likes to make a spectacle of herself!” she sniffed self righteously.  
Her eyes popped when she saw the carriage pull up at Pitty-Pat's and a tall young coachman helped India step into the carriage.  
“Why will wonders never cease!” Mrs. Mead said pulling off her gardening gloves as she watched the carriage drive away to the outskirts of town. “What will Dolly Merriweather think when I tell her?”  
*************************

Aside from exchanging good mornings Scarlett and India did not speak during the drive out to the mills. Scarlett seemed lost in thought and India was certainly not going to try and make conversation. Her 'job' was to act as a watchdog, not to entertain Scarlett.  
India had never seen the mills, the closest she had ever gotten was the lumberyard and she had not been there since the day of Ashley's surprise party. She remembered hurrying over to tell Melly just what she had seen. How pleased she had been to finally prove to Melly just what kind of snake she was harbouring to her breast, but the pleasure quickly turned to shock when she had seen the rage in Melly's soft brown eyes and had been curtly told to leave the house and not come back.  
“But Melly, you don't mean it. Why Scarlett has chased after ...”  
“I think you forget yourself, India.” Melly had said with ice. “ Scarlett is my sister and I will not listen to any more of your slander against her.”  
“But I am your sister too.”  
“As of now you are not. You are no longer welcome in this house Miss Wilkes. I bid you good day.”  
There was such a finality in Melly's tone that India had no choice but to leave.  
Much after, Ashley had explained to India what actually had occurred - though India would never fully believe that Scarlett hadn't tried to manipulate Ashley somehow, she had been innocent on that occasion. India had wanted to breach the divide between herself and Melly but it was never to be and as Melly lay on her deathbed, even then, India was not able to tell Melly how wrong she had been, Dr. Meade had insisted that she couldn't. Now Melly was gone and if by helping Scarlett maybe Melly would be able to forgive her. This was to be her penance.  
The victoria turned down the drive and into the mill's grounds. The driver jumped down from his seat and opened the carriage door, helping Scarlett and India down.  
Two black men, their clothes little more than rags, insolently leaned against the wall of the mill, they stared sullenly at the women with yellowed eyes and the taller one spat a dark stream of tobacco on the dirt before Scarlett's feet.  
“Thank-you Joseph.” Scarlett said to her driver. “Stay here with the horses. I won't be that long. Come India.”  
Scarlett strode like a queen past the men and up the stairs into the mill office. Scarlett's mouth showed her displeasure at the condition of the office, paper overflowed the trash bin, red mud stained the floor and dust thickly coated the surfaces. Ashley turned towards the sound of their footsteps and her face changed to a sweet dimpled smile.  
“Scarlett...” Ashley croaked. He had aged twenty years since the last time she had seen him. He had become a shadow of the man he had been with Melly by his side.  
“Hello Ashley, how are you?” Scarlett said brightly, ignoring his graying hair, his sunken cheeks, his rounded shoulders. “I hope you don't mind us invading your workplace – India and I were just out for a drive and I thought it would be fun to show her the mill.”  
“No imposition, Scarlett – India.” If Ashley had been in the present, no doubt he would have wondered why Scarlett and India were even in the same room yet he was lost in the fog of mourning and didn't even notice.  
“See India, I told you he wouldn't mind.” Scarlett chattered on. “India was convinced that you would be furious at us interrupting but I thought you would like a break from your labours.”  
“Please sit down, ladies.” Ashley pulled two hard wooden chairs towards them, he didn't see India use her serviceable hankerchief to brush off the seat of hers.  
“Well isn't this lovely!” Scarlett said. “Ashley, is it a holiday?”  
“I'm not sure.” Ashley said dully. “Is it?”  
“I guess it must be as there are so few men working today. Never mind.”  
“Aren't they working? I'm sorry, Scarlett.”  
“Oh Ashley, you don't need to apologize to me. These are your mills after all and if you choose to give your workers a holiday then that is up to you.” Scarlett said with a bite. She quickly recovered herself and smiled sweetly at him. “Ashley, I must admit I had an ulterior reason for coming to visit.”  
“You never need a reason to visit, Scarlett.”  
India sat up, her senses on alert.  
“How kind of you, Ashley. And it is fun being back on my old stomping grounds.” Scarlett gayly twittered. “Why Rhett was just saying to me the other day that I must have sawdust in my veins.”  
Ashley politely said, “And how is Captain Butler?”  
“He is fine thank you. He made me promise to send you his regards and he hopes to call on you when he gets home from his travels.”  
How neatly Scarlett had underlined her husband and his return. India marvelled at the mastery that Scarlett welded when she was being charming.  
“Now Ashley, I am here to ask an enormous favour of you and I will just cry if you say no.”  
“We can't have you crying Scarlett. What is it that you want? You know I will do anything to help.” Ashley said with some of his old gallantry.  
“Well Ashley, you might think me silly but I have been so bored recently and you know I have never been one for joining in the ladies sewing circles or book reading groups.”  
India sniffed, she didn't 'join in' because Scarlett had never been invited to attend any of them - why she was usually the main topic of discussion when the ladies got together.  
“Ashley, would it be too much to ask for you to let go over your ledgers? I know it isn't the least bit lady-like and Mammy always scolds me but there is nothing I enjoy more than adding up a long list of numbers.”  
“The ledgers?”  
“Yes. You know I have actually been reduced to doing problems from Wade's arithmetic book and twenty eggs plus thirty chickens just isn't much of a challenge. I like nothing better than tackling a long column of credits and debits and interest at point five percent and oh please say yes, otherwise I swear my brain will turn into corn mush!”  
Ashley smiled. “If you want, Scarlett, of course you may take them.” He looked at his desktop and opened the centre drawer and rifled through it. “I'm sure they are here...”  
“I think they are just there, under your coffee tray.” Scarlett pointed at the table by the door. The coffee in the cup had molded over and a dead fly lay in the saucer.  
“Oh yes. Funny how you can't see what you are looking for, even when it is staring straight at you.”  
Scarlett laughed. “How true.” She took the ledgers from him. “Now India, we should go. We mustn't impose on Ashley any longer.”  
“No imposition at all Scarlett, India...I wasn't really working.”  
Scarlett laughed. “Oh India, isn't funny how men always pretend they never do a lick of work when we ladies know how hard they slave?”  
India stayed mute, she had none of Scarlett's ability at coquetting and wouldn't even attempt it. She kissed Ashley on the cheek and followed Scarlett outside. The negroes were gone and Joseph stood by the horses.  
“Oh and Ashley, promise you will let Beau come for a visit – I have missed my nephew almost as much as Wade, he is desperate to have some boy company, you know how hard it is for little boys to try and enjoy playing dress up with their little sisters when they would rather be playing with their tin soldiers.”  
Ashley helped the ladies into their carriage. “He could come tomorrow – shall I bring him over in the morning?”  
“Oh no, you are much too busy. I will have Pork pick him up at ten.” Scarlett slid around having Ashley come to her house. “Good-bye Ashley and thank you for saving my sanity! Drive on, Joseph.” Scarlett gave Ashley a cheery wave and sat back into the cushioned upholstery.  
India waved also but Ashley did not notice. His shoulders slumped as he turned back towards the office.  
Joseph put the horses into a quick trot and Scarlett's mouth turned down into a frown.  
“I must admit, I'm impressed.” India said snidely. Scarlett glanced over at her. “You handled him well.”  
“It was nothing.” Scarlett said dismissively. “India, I will be needing you more than I expected, things are much worse than I imagined. God only knows what I will discover in these ledgers but I don't expect to find much joy. I need to go to the lumberyard tomorrow, are you available?”  
“Why do you need me there?” India said, she had no desire to ever return to the scene of her crime.  
Scarlett sighed impatiently. “Because Ashley may be there. I have no idea where he goes or which site he may be at but I need to work on anything to do with the mills and because he may be at any of sites at anytime I will need you constantly at my side. Will you be free tomorrow?”  
India debated saying no but Ashley did need help, anyone with eyes could see that. “Yes, I will be free.”  
“Thank you.” Scarlett itched to open the ledgers but she had to be patient until she got home.  
*************************************  
The triumvirate of Mrs. Meade, Mrs. Elsing and Mrs. Merriweather were gathered expectantly for India's return and hardly gave her the chance to wash her hands and take her tea before they began peppering her with questions.  
She raised her hand to still them. With the scent of a martyr she simple said, “I had to keep the honour of the Wilkes name. I couldn't let that woman near Ashley without acting as, for want of a better word, chaperone.”  
The lie came so easily to India and was just as easily accepted and approved by the other ladies that she didn't think twice about it. Besides what harm could it do? It's not as though Scarlett would advertise how she was helping Ashley nor would anyone imagine that harlot was actually trying to help anyone besides herself. No, India felt quite confident with her little lie.  
*************************************  
Atlanta quickly got used to seeing Scarlett and India seemingly joined at the hip and it approved. No one thought to ask why Scarlett needed to go to the mills and the lumberyard so often but they felt secure in the knowledge that India was standing guard against any improprieties.  
For Scarlett, it was a difficult road. She wanted to berate Ashley and point out his constant folly but she instead gently suggested ways to improve the businesses.  
She managed to convince Ashley to let her be in charge of the billing.  
“Oh Ashley, it would give me something to do. I like nothing better than adding up sums and sending out invoices. It makes me feel useful.”  
Ashley was putty in her hands. He had no interest in anything anymore. Even little Beau was some how a unwanted distraction to his black morass and he spent his days lost in thought of all that was gone.  
India was astonished when she discovered how Scarlett calculated the fees for lumber. For any Yankees the cost was fifteen percent higher, for any Confederate it was base and for any of the old Atlantians it was discounted by five percent.  
“But why, Scarlett? Aren't you losing money by your pricing?”  
“Don't be ridiculous, India. The Yankees have all the money and can afford to pay more. Why should I help them? Besides, Yankees are the ones that are building more than we are so we will come out even if not better.”  
“But what happens if they find out?”  
Scarlett looked her square in the eye. “And that is why I insisted you don't mention any of my business dealings. What they don't know won't hurt them. You did promise India.”  
And so India, even if she had wanted to, couldn't say anything but it did give her pause and she no longer joined in the slander when talk turned to Scarlett.  
It was the beginning of December and Scarlett was furious. She and India had gone out to the West mill and once again it was standing idle. Scarlett had bit her lip hard enough to bleed before she had quietly asked Ashley why there was no work being done. There was a new hotel being built by the train depot come January and she had convinced Ashley to put a bid in for it, she had even written up the proposal for him. If the hotel conglomerate discovered that the mill was not reliable the contract would go to someone else.  
“But why are we standing idle, Ashley? Where is everyone?” Scarlett tried to keep her tone even and polite.  
“I don't know, Scarlett. We hire men and they may work a few days but then they get their pay and they don't come back.” Ashley vaguely said.  
'That's what you get for hiring freemen.' Scarlett fumed inwardly. 'If we still had the convicts – oh Ashley... you are useless.'  
He stood shame faced before her – it would be like whipping a wounded dog to start in on him.  
“Never mind, Ashley. I am sure everything will work out.”  
In the carriage on the way home, Scarlett sat ramrod straight, looking out at the passing scene.  
“Might I make a suggestion, Scarlett?” India asked. She had sat quietly during these many visits to the mills and the yard. Sometimes she had brought a book, which stayed unread, other times her knitting but she had listened with keen ears to the conversations between Scarlett and Ashley.  
“What?” Scarlett said with a snip.  
“It seems to me that part of the problem is the workmen never staying long.”  
“Yes India, how very observant of you.” Scarlett sarcastically said.  
“Hear me out - I remember at Twelve Oaks, our people always worked better when they were with their families. Don't you remember how my father sold Dilcey to your father? It was because she was of no use to us if she was away from her husband.”  
Scarlett looked at India. “What are you getting at?”  
“A great deal of the problem with the mills is the workers. They come, are trained and then leave. Time is wasted by training them and then just when they are able to work, they leave. Why?”  
Scarlett was confused. “They leave because they don't have to stay.”  
“Exactly. Nothing is keeping them there. But if they had their families there, their wives, they would be more likely to stay.”  
Scarlett sat back. “Explain to me what you mean.”  
India eagerly continued. “Men want to take care of their wives and their children. And their wives expect their men to take care of them. If you have the wives there, they will make sure their men go to work.”  
“But how can we have the wives there, we don't have work for women.”  
India was on a roll. “Think about, if you hire married men and offer them housing for themselves and their wives, they have a stake in staying. Their wives will want to stay and so they will make sure their husbands go to work. If a man does not show up for work, they will lose their home.”  
Scarlett looked at India. She was right. India knew better than anyone how to manage things. Though all the young belles of Clayton County had been trained at running a plantation, only India had done it. She knew how to care for the hundred slaves owned by the Wilkes and she of any of them had learned how to get them to work.  
“They don't need palaces, just a small house with a bit of yard to grow some vegetables and keep some chickens. There is more than enough cleared land by the mills for them and I'm sure it won't cost as much as losing a contract.”  
Scarlett's mind flew towards this new prospect. “You are right, India. It's a wonderful idea. Can I put you in charge of seeing it through?”  
India was astonished. “Why yes. Do I have your full approval?”  
“Yes – but we will have to work together to get Ashley to think it is all his idea. Will you be able to manage that?”  
“Together I think we can.” India smiled and then the two old enemies shook hands. “Lovely doing business with you Scarlett.”  
Scarlett laughed, “And with you, India.”  
****************  
As for Scarlett's life outside the mills and Ashley, she took a page from Rhett's book and did not hide away in her grand house. Instead she put herself and the children out on display. Every afternoon, no matter the weather, they would walk the neighbourhood together, discussing the day's events. Every Sunday they would be seen at the Terrace Hotel, having their midday meal.  
Slowly, through the charm of Scarlett and the sweetness of the children, people began to warm to them.  
None would visit the house but their animosity began to wane. Wade started to be invited on outings with the other young boys, to hike through the woods surrounding Atlanta and walk the battlefields looking for old bullets and to see the breastworks that had been built but the South's valiant men. Ella made close friends with Fanny Elsing's second daughter, June at Miss Madelaine's Dance and Deportment School, the two were soon inseparable and because June, known affectionately as June Bug wouldn't go anywhere without Ella, Ella was always invited to any of the other little girls parties.  
It was a small victory for Scarlett.  
At night, after the children had gone to bed, Scarlett would her allow herself a single glass of wine. She had found spirits made her eyes puffy and her waistline thicker and she didn't like waking every morning with a headache.  
She would wander the large mansion with her glass in hand. One night she went up to the third floor and looked at the ballroom, useless and unused since her disastrous 'crush'. The lines of room flowed beautifully, tall windows that slid open to the veranda outside with Grecian statues and marble benches, the wide arbour for musicians to play waltzes for ladies and gentleman, and small curved alcoves for young lovers to hide away from prying matrons. Scarlett held up her arms and began to slowly dance along the polished floor. The memory of their first waltz came to her-  
“ your eyes were twin goldfish bowls filled to the brim with the clearest green water and that when the fish swim to the top, as they are doing now, you are devilishly charming?"  
He had always been devilishly charming-too charming for her to know how he had loved her.  
Another night and with another glass of wine, she braved herself to go in his room. It felt empty and cold. Rhett had wired the house and asked for all his belongings to be sent to Charleston when Scarlet was still at Tara. Pork had packed everything up and dutifully sent them. All that was left was the faint scent of Rhett's cologne and a book of poetry on the bedside table. Scarlett had grasped on to it, it was all she had of him. A few poems had faint pencilled asterisks beside them and she read them carefully - she needed to use Wade's dictionary for some of the words but the poems gave more of Rhett's thoughts and feelings of Scarlett than Rhett had ever done.  
The book always fell open to one page, obviously the poem that Rhett had read most often -  
Sonnet XXX  
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,  
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:  
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,  
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought  
I summon up remembrance of things past, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,  
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,  
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:  
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,  
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er  
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,  
Which I new pay as if not paid before.  
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,  
All losses are restored and sorrows end.  
Scarlett wept too, now knowing how much hurt she had caused Rhett. She had been for so long dismissive of him, greedy for his gifts and his money yet thoughtless as to why he married her, never thinking that he cared for anything or anyone except Bonnie - and even there she had failed him. She had lashed out at him, blamed him for her death, never thinking how much more he had lost with the little girl's death. Oh, if only she could take back time and repair all her many mistakes. It was too late for Melly but pray God, not Rhett.  
Scarlett began writing letters to Rhett, they were much the same as the ones she had written during their engagement when he was in England. She told him news of the children, news of Atlanta and Tara, she told him of her uneasy alliance with India and her annoyance with Ashley. She didn't hide the fact she was back working at the mills and with Ashley but she also let him know she was doing it for Melly. She used her letters to vent her anger and frustration with the store and customers that insisted they were always in the right even though they were so clearly in the wrong. She asked his opinion on ideas for expansion and if this person was someone she should do business with or stay far away from. She never pushed him, nor did she spill out long apologies or desperate pleas for him to come home, though she wanted to, she knew deep within that would be the worst thing she could do, but she always signed her letters 'With All My Love, Your Scarlett'.  
Aunt Eulalie and Aunt Pauline sometimes included news of Rhett in their letters. He was still in Charleston, living at his mother's home. They questioned Scarlett as to why he was there and not in Atlanta. “I do hope, Scarlett, that you aren't going to add a divorce to your list of shame to the family. I am sure I wouldn't be able to show my face if you brought such dishonour upon us. Though we never thought highly of you marrying Captain Butler, you made your bed and now you have to lie in it.” Aunt Eulalie wrote. “Captain Butler does not go out in society often but when he does it is obvious he is not well. He is very gray in colour and usually stands mutely beside his mother or his sister. What did you do to him, Scarlett? I imagine the death of precious Bonnie is still weighing heavily on him.” She then continued on about how high her expenses were and it would be nice if Scarlett could see her way to increase her monthly cheque.  
Scarlett also received a letter written from Rhett's mother – she thanked Scarlett for her kind note asking after Rhett and told her that he was doing as well as could be expected.  
“He is spending his time reading and has on occasion has gone to Sylvan View, though he seems even more despondent when he returns. I worry over him as I am sure you do. Your letters do seem to brighten his mood for a short time but then he seems to sink back into his black thoughts. I wish there was something I could do to help him but he insists that he just needs time and refuses to discuss it. Would it be asking too much of you, dear Scarlett, to come here to Charleston? Maybe seeing you again would help him out of his melancholy.”  
Scarlett would have liked nothing better than to catch the next train to Charleston and would have been on it if it had been Rhett that had asked but she knew she couldn't go to him. It would be easy to arrive there and tell him it was on his mother's invitation but he wouldn't believe her, he would think she had some how forced herself on his mother and contrived for her to invite her there. No doubt he would leave as soon as possible and Scarlett was sure that in his fragile state, Rhett needed to be with those that loved him. If he was to leave Charleston he would be alone with only his dark thoughts and sad memories for company.  
It had been very difficult wording her regrets to Mrs. Butler. She couldn't speak plainly as she didn't know how much Rhett had told his mother, though it wouldn't have been in Rhett's character to lay out all that had happened between them. She also wanted to word her letter in such a way that if Rhett should happen to read it, he would know how much she loved him and wanted to be with him. She finally, after many rough drafts, had written -  
'My heart breaks thinking of how sad Rhett must be and I wish there was something I could do to help him. I think Rhett feels he needs to be away from painful memories and I worry if I should come it will make things worse for him. Not a minute of my day goes by that I don't think of him and I pray that soon he will regain his strength and return home to me. If he should ask for me, I will come immediately. Until then, I must stay here in Atlanta.”  
Scarlett hoped she had made the right decision though it had gone against everything she would have previously done. She fought against her nature and kept herself in Atlanta and continued to write bright, happy letters to Rhett.  
Christmas was fast approaching and in keeping with her promise to herself to be kinder to those that she had hurt, Scarlett invited Suellen and her girls to stay in Atlanta for a few days. Scarlett was determined to entertain them and did all that she could to make them welcome. She took them shopping at the finest stores, they all dined at the Terrace together eating exotic savouries and special sweets. Her nieces sat wide-eyed as the waiter wheeled over the dessert cart heavily laden with ice cream, Charlotte Russe, chocolate cake, cream puffs, lemon meringue pie. “Everyone at this table has to have at least two plates otherwise I'll be mighty angry at you!” Scarlett said sternly. The children all complied easily to the order.  
Scarlett arranged for all the children to go to a Christmas pantomime and took them for drives in her fine carriage. She organized a special tea party for the little girls and their dollies with Suellen and Scarlett serving the dainties their mother had taught them to make long ago. Scarlett and Suellen had enjoyed being together in the kitchen, recalling Ole Sue, the tyrant of Tara's kitchen and how Ellen was always able to smooth her down when the heat and the kitchen maids became too much.  
“Do you remember that time when Ole Sue grabbed that pickney, oh what was her name, and started dunking her head in the dishwater?”  
“Cindy, no Cissy! And Mother came in and said 'Ole Sue I think it would be better if she used the dishrag to scrub the pots rather than her hair!'!”  
“Ole Sue was the only one that Mammy feared at Tara, though she'd never admit it to a soul. Did you ever notice that Mammy never turned her back to Ole Sue, she was always too frightened that she would get a knife in it.” The sisters laughed happily recalling old times.  
The last night of their visit, after the children had been sent to their beds, Scarlett and Suellen sat together in Scarlett's sitting room. “A final treat to celebrate an early Christmas, Sue.” Scarlett said as she opened a bottle of champagne and poured the sparkling wine. They clinked the pretty rose coloured crystal glasses. “To old times and new.”  
“Thank you for having us, Scarlett. It has been a real treat for the girls.”  
“We will do it more often then. Anytime you would like to come, with or without the girls, you will always be welcome.”  
Suellen drank deeply and as she drank one glass after another, her tongue loosened. It began with her usual complaints of motherhood, Will never being good enough, being stuck so far out in the country.  
“Why did you take Frank from me, Scarlett? You knew he was mine.” Suellen suddenly said. Scarlett clearly remembered the hate filled letter Suellen had written after Frank and she had married. This was not a conversation she wished to have, not tonight when Suellen was so obviously spoiling for a fight.  
“Did you really love him, Sue?” Scarlett said deflecting Suellen's question.  
“He loved me!”  
“But did you love him?” Scarlett pressed.  
“In my own way.” Suellen poured more of the wine into her glass. Frank had always been her beau, her stand by beau, he had always been available to escort her, to dance with her when no other men would because they all seemed bewitched by Scarlett. But if push came to shove, she hadn't really loved him. He would have been her husband from default but her heart had never been taken by him.  
Scarlett felt a lessening of the guilt she had carried for marrying Frank. Any man would have done for Sue, as long as she could be married and not a spinster.  
“I'm sure Will loves you, Sue. He may not be the most affectionate man, but he does love you, otherwise why did he marry you?”  
“He married me so that he could stay at Tara. Don't take me for a fool, Scarlett. He loved Careen.”  
“I think you underestimate Will. He could have stayed at Tara without marrying you. Oh I know it wouldn't have looked right, you and he living under the same roof, but you could have left, gone to stay with Aunt Eulalie or Aunt Pauline. You didn't have to marry him but you did. When he told me he had asked for you hand, he said how much he cared for you and he said something about how though he didn't have much money you would be rich in true love with him.”  
Scarlett fudged things a bit. It had been Frank Kennedy that had said that, but what Sue didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And besides, wouldn't it be better if she thought that Will had said it?  
“He loves you, aren't your girls proof of that?”  
Though slightly mollified, Suellen wasn't finished with her complaints and another bottle of champagne was opened for her. Scarlett still nursed her now flat glass, the bubbles long gone. Finally the true reasons for Suellen's bitterness came out. The County had never really forgiven her for Gerald's death. She stepped on shaky ground with Scarlett. His death was a direct result of Suellen's greed and desire to be lady of the county but as she listened to Suellen sob out her regrets and guilt, Scarlett realized that she was just as great a pariah in Clayton County as Scarlett was in Atlanta. Though Scarlett could salve her own conscience over some of her less than upright behaviour by knowing she acted on the behalf of Tara and all those that depended on her was she any better than Suellen? Somehow a piece of Melly came to Scarlett. A taste of empathy towards her sister. “Sue, look at me.”  
Suellen's tear filled eyes blearily looked up at Scarlett's green eyes staring straight at her. “Pa was lost without Mother. He had become a shadow, lost in his grief. But for those last few moments, he was Gerald O'Hara, fighting the English, the Yankees, fighting for his land again. He died taking a jump, don't you think he was glad he died that way rather than living a half life? You didn't intend for him to die, just like I didn't intend for Frank to die. We can't go back and change things, no matter how much we wish we could. All we can do is move forward and somehow learn to be kinder.”  
Suellen burst into sobs and held onto to Scarlett. “There, there. Now I think I should get you to bed, little sister. We have had enough confessions for one night.” Scarlett helped Suellen up to her room and into her bed. “Sleep well.” Scarlett gave a kiss to her sister and turned down the lamp.  
At the noisy train station the following morning, with the many parcels and Christmas presents Scarlett had bought them, Suellen, her head aching from the wine, hugged Scarlett tightly. “You've changed, Scarlett. I don't know how or why but you are so much nicer now.”  
“Count your blessings Sue and don't let them go. Merry Christmas, may the New Year bring you joy.”  
“And to you, Scarlett. I hope all your wishes come true.”  
“From your lips to God's ears, Sue.” Scarlett said with a smile. “Give my love to all at Tara.”  
********************  
It was Christmas Eve and Scarlett was excited. The enormous Christmas tree was standing in the hallway, filling the house with the scent of pine. Small red candles decorated it along with the fragile German ornaments, the long popcorn strings the children had threaded, peppermint canes and the beautiful golden angel on top. She peaked under the tree and saw presents from the children, Wade's wrapped with precision and Ella's with ribbons lob-sided and tissue paper torn. No matter how they were wrapped, Scarlett always loved presents. She felt very festive and was beautifully gowned in a deep green taffeta dress that fit tightly across her abdomen and then swooped gracefully back into a bustle and made a delightful rustle as she walked. At her waist was a small spray of red roses and another was pinned to one side of her head, on the other was a cascade of ringlets hanging down her shoulder.  
“Ella, Wade are you ready?” Scarlett called upstairs. “We are meant to be at Aunt Pitty's in five minutes.”  
The children, dressed perfectly – Wade in his blue suit and Ella in her white dress sprigged with pink roses - ran down the stairs, as excited as Scarlett.  
“You look beautiful, Mother.” Wade politely said.  
“Thank you Wade, and you look very handsome in that suit. Ella, let me fix your ribbon.” Scarlett quickly retied the ribbon. “There, as pretty as a picture and twice as nice.” she said as she pinched Ella's cheek.  
“Mother, Ella and I found the Christmas stockings. May we hang them up now?”  
Scarlett looked at the clock and back at her children, their eyes were beaming with excitement. “I don't think it will hurt if we are a few minutes late. Where are they?”  
“We took the box into the library. It won't take long, come on Ella.” And Wade led Scarlett into the library. Though this had been primarily Rhett's sanctuary, Scarlett had decided it was the coziest room of the house and had begun to spend more time in it. She had ordered another smaller tree for it and had the carved mantle swagged with heavily scented pine boughs decorated with green and red tartan bows. “Here they are, Mother.” Wade showed her the tissue lined papier mache box with magazine cut outs of holly and ivy.  
“All right then. Eldest goes first I think is the Christmas rule. Here you are, Wade.” Scarlett said as she pulled out the red velvet stocking, with Wade's name embroidered in gold. “And here is yours Ella.”  
The children rushed to the mantle and hung their stockings with tacks. Two more stockings were in the box, Bonnie and Rhett.  
“Why Mama don't have 'tocking?' Bonnie lisped.  
“Because only good little girls and boys have stockings, sweetheart.” Rhett said, blandly looking at Scarlett. She had another stocking made with Rhett's name embroidered on it and the following Christmas she had filled it with coal.  
“Perfect – now we are all set for St. Nicholas. Oh my, look at the time, quick sticks children, we are very late.” Scarlett hurried the children out of the room as she pushed down her tears. It was Christmas and damned if she was going to spend it crying.  
They had enjoyed the evening at Aunt Pitty's, Ashley, Beau and India had been there as well and they had exchanged gifts before feasting on roast beef with roasted potatoes and meringues for dessert. Scarlett had then taken the children to Midnight Mass at the Cathedral, complete with all the 'bells and smells' as Pa had always said. The children couldn't follow all that was being said as it was in Latin but they followed their mother's lead as to standing up, sitting down and kneeling. Of course Scarlett didn't take communion as it had been too many years since her last confession and she had not interest in it anymore, but she dutifully said prayers for Mother, Pa, Bonnie and Melly. The service ended with the congregation joining in singing the hymns of Christmas with the organ lifting the music to the heavens and the children were breath taken by the spectacle. They continued singing Christmas carols as they drove home to Peach Street. Scarlett was happier and more uplifted than she had been since before the War. Somehow, all felt right.  
'And a partridge in a pear tree' they ended just as they stepped through the door with linked arms and laughter. The children were as happy as Scarlett, excited for Christmas day and all their wished for presents.  
Before even taking off her black mink wrap, Scarlett smelt something familiar, it was mixed with the strong scent of pine from the towering Christmas tree but very distinct.  
“Pork, have you been smoking cigars? I am surprised at you.” Scarlett said with a generous smile.  
“No'm, weren't me Miss Scarlett, it wuz Captun Butler.”  
“Rhett! Rhett's home? Where is he?”Scarlett said quickly pulling off her gloves.  
“Wall he come in about three hours ago and he sat for a time and then he said he was goin' out and for yous to not to wait up and that he'd see ya in the mornin'” Pork said grinning.  
“Did he say where he was going?”  
“No'm. Jes that he'd see ya in the mornin'”  
Wade and Ella stood quietly by but hearing that their Uncle Rhett was home again, it would be a wonderful Christmas!  
“Did you hear that children? Why I think that Father Christmas has already started delivering presents. Now if you want to be sure your stockings are filled to over-brimming you better scoot upstairs and get into bed otherwise he will sail right past this house. Prissy, get them ready and I will be up to tuck them in soon. Pork, is there brandy in the library, is there any cigars?”  
“Yes'm.”  
“And have you lit the fire in his dressing room, oh when was the last time it was dusted?” Scarlett fretted.  
“Jes three days ago, I did it myself.” Pork had often gone into Rhett's room to make sure things were as they should be if Captain Butler should ever come home again.  
“Thank you Pork.” Scarlett was nervous and excited at the same time. She had written Rhett in her last letter that she hoped he would come for Christmas but hadn't really expected him. She imagined he would have preferred to stay in Charleston with his family. He was home, he had come home. Oh what a wonderful Christmas this would be.  
“You don't need to stay up, Pork. Go to bed – we will see you in the morning.”  
“Are's you sure, Miss Scarlett. I don't mind waiting up.”  
Scarlett shook her head, no when Rhett came home she wanted him all to herself. “No, Captain Butler can manage. Merry Christmas Pork.”  
“Merry Christmas, Miss.”  
Scarlett ran up the stairs to say good night to the children. She sent Prissy off to bed and gave the children loving hugs.  
“Mama, how does Father Christmas get in the house?” Ella wanted to delay Scarlett leaving.  
“Silly girl – he does it with magic, but he doesn't come until all the children are asleep so if you want him to visit, you better close those eyes and go to sleep. It is very late – why it is well after midnight- I am surprised I haven't turned to a pumpkin yet!”  
Ella giggled and snuggled deeper under the covers. “Merry Christmas darling ones.” Scarlett said as she turned down the gas lamp. At the doorway she stopped and said quietly “Oh we don't have to get up so very early. Let's say ten o'clock?”  
She laughed hearing the children's shouts of despair. “Alright then, you drive a hard bargain - eight and not a minute earlier. Good night.”  
Scarlett flew to Rhett's room, Pork had lit the fire and turned down the bed. She filled a carafe with water and put it alongside the heavy crystal glass on the small tray on his bedside table. She went through to her room and retrieved the book of poetry that Rhett had left behind. Her silver filigree bookmark kept the place of a poem that had spoken to her -  
“I hate the day because it lendeth light  
To see all things and not my love to see.”  
Scarlett smiled, imagine her of all people not only reading poetry but actually understanding it. Rhett would be surprised.  
She purposefully left the connecting door between their rooms wide open. Rhett should have no doubt that he was welcome in her bedroom again. A shiver went up her spine. Soon, soon he would be holding her in his arms again and she would be able to let him know how much she loved him.  
But first she had to finish preparing for the children's Christmas. Scarlett rushed to all the different hiding places for the many presents she had bought, - in closests and under her bed, in drawers and behind doors. She was surprised Ella and Wade hadn't winkled out any of her hiding places – she had always found at least three presents well before any Christmas at Tara when she was young, though Mother had always kept at least one surprise hidden too well even for her.  
She filled the stockings with candies and in each was an orange wrapped in in tissue that she had specially ordered from Florida. Large packages and small presents, wrapped in foiled paper and colourful ribbons, were heaped under the tree.. She had kept her ears alert for Rhett and had run to the hall often, thinking she had heard his step in the hallway.  
Her final preparation was to hang Rhett's stocking on the mantel. She placed her gift within it, not coal this time. She was glad she hadn't trusted the mails with it but had held it back until someone she trusted could deliver it to Charleston.  
Stepping back she admired her handiwork - it was magical. All was as it should be, except Rhett wasn't here beside her to enjoy the Christmas scene. Scarlett sat on the leather lounge, exhausted from the long day. Her eyes grew heavy as she gazed at the fire burning, he was home again. He had come home to her.....  
********************  
Her neck was cricked and she felt cold. Cracking open her eyes, Scarlett wondered where she was at first - sitting up, she realized she was in the library. The fire had burnt out and the lights had been dimmed, a light blanket was draped over her knees.  
'Rhett is home,' she remembered. 'He has come home. Why didn't he wake me? Maybe he tried and I was too deep in sleep. Oh but he is home again.'  
Hurriedly, Scarlett folded the blanket and draped it on the back of the lounge, she scanned the room, making sure all was ready for the children. Three new presents were under the tree, she peeked at the paper tags....Love Uncle Rhett said two, the third was simply signed Rhett.  
But he was home again. Scarlett ran up the stairs as the tall clock in the hall began to chime five o'clock. No light shone from under Rhett's door and as she entered her room she saw their connecting door was closed. Should she open it or let him be?  
It was still dark but morning was so near. She would have to wait, why did she fall off asleep when he was home again. Scarlett wanted to kick herself.  
She undressed and climbed into the cold sheets of her bed. Curling up in a ball, she hugged herself. He is home again.  
***********************  
“Merry Christmas Momma!”  
“Merry Christmas Mother.”  
Scarlett groaned. “It can't be eight o'clock yet. You two scamps have moved the clocks forward haven't you?”  
“Merry Christmas, Scarlett.” She sat up – there was Rhett, standing behind Wade and Ella. It was true, it hadn't been a dream – he was home. But he looked so pale and ill. His black eyes gazed blankly at her with no emotion, no feeling.  
“Please Momma, get up. Uncle Rhett has made coffee and everything. Oh Momma, you should see how much Father Christmas brought!”  
“I refuse to get out of this bed until I get a Christmas kiss from all three of you!” Scarlett demanded holding out her arms.  
Wade and Ella ran to her and kissed her cheeks. Rhett was a bit slower but he finally bent over and coolly kissed her on the cheek. She wanted to kiss his mouth, to pour out her love to him, to have him hold her again and stroke her cheek and tease her in that maddening way. But it was Christmas morning and all of that would have to wait.  
“Should I dress or would you prefer I come downstairs in my dressing gown?” Scarlett teased the children.  
“Momma come now. I am 'bout to burst to open my presents!” Ella shouted.  
“My dressing gown it is then. Give me two minutes to wash the sleep from my eyes and I will be there to see all the gifts that Father Christmas has brought you.”  
The children shouted together “Hurry up!” as they chased each other out the door. Rhett followed them – Scarlett would have preferred him staying so that they may have a minute to themselves but there would be time enough later.  
The children seemed to have been happy with their presents. For Ella, Father Christmas had brought an enormous doll's house, completely furnished with beds, rocking chairs, tiny sinks and a tinier baby cradle – there was even a small dog and smaller cat. Wade's train set had come from Germany via Father Christmas and was a marvel to behold. The engine pulled the train when wound up with a brass key and sent it clickety clacking down the tracks, with a little red caboose bring up the rear.  
From Rhett, Ella got a music box with a dancing figurine that turned as a sweet tune played. Wade got a handsome leather bound journal with a mechanical pencil. For Scarlett, a pair of long black opera gloves - useless to her as she would not be going out to any event that would warrant wearing them, but treasured just the same.  
They dined on an enormous Christmas lunch with sweet ham, turkey, oysters, bread stuffing and sweet trifle. They pulled their Christmas crackers, spilling out sugared almonds and laughed as Ella jumped with each crack.  
Rhett was like an old actor on a stage, reprising a starring role as a loving father to the children. He managed to pull it off for them but Scarlett could sense he wasn't really there. He was lost somewhere else, some place she couldn't find.  
She insisted they go for their afternoon walk though the children had pleaded to stay at home with their new toys. Scarlett was adamant and was especially happy that Rhett came with them. It was drizzling and damp and Scarlett wished more people had been out to see them all together. Rhett hadn't pulled away when Scarlett had slipped her arm through his but she knew he was only allowing it for the sake of the neighbours.  
When they were back home and the children were engaged with their toys, Scarlett tried to converse with him but his responses were minimal at best.  
“Is your Mother well, Rhett?  
“Yes.”  
“And Rosemary, how is she? What is she doing?”  
“She is fine.”  
“Did I tell you that Fanny Elsing had found a new beau? He's from oh where what it again...”  
“Tennessee. Yes, you told me in your last letter.”  
“So you actually read my letters?”  
Rhett didn't respond. It was like trying to fight a brick wall. He gave her nothing. Looking at him as he pretended to read a book, she could see how deeply cut the lines on his face had become. His cheeks were sunken and his nose stood sharply out. He wore an air of deep sorrow and ennui. She wanted to stroke his face and bring back the lost light to his eyes. She rose to move to him.  
“Lotto!” Wade called out. “I win again.”  
Ella threw her beans, scattering over the table. “I hate this game. I'm not playing anymore.”  
“You're been a bad sport, Ella.”  
“Am not! It's a dumb game and I hate it and I hate you, Wade Hampton!”  
“That's enough Ella Lorena.” Scarlett said sharply and Ella burst into loud sobbing tears. “That's enough,” Scarlett said more gently. “You are overtired, little girl and you both need to get to bed.”  
“It's only eight o'clock though, and I'm not the least bit tired.” Wade said.  
“Well you should be. We were up very late last night and I have no doubt you were awake at dawn. Come along, I want to be sure you brush your teeth properly after all the candy you've eaten. Wade, you may read for half an hour once you are in bed.”  
Scarlett was able to get the children to bed with little fuss, they were very tired though Wade wouldn't admit it. Returning to the library she found Rhett still sitting with a book in his lap.  
“Would you care for a brandy, Rhett.”  
“No thank you. You go ahead if you like .” he said.  
“No I don't really want one.”  
Rhett gazed at her for a minute and she waited for the sharp barb about her drinking alone but he said nothing.  
Closing his book, he said “I think I will turn in now.”  
“Oh but I thought we might have a chance to talk. Won't you stay up a little longer?” Scarlett said with a slight pout to her mouth.  
“No, I'm too tired. Good night.”  
“Shall I join you?” Scarlett said softly.  
“A kind offer, but no. It was a nice day, let's leave it at that. I don't have the strength for dramatics and emotions tonight.”  
“But..” Scarlett tried to think of how she could let him know she didn't want to make a scene, she only wanted to be close to him but before she had the chance he said, “Good night, Scarlett. Merry Christmas.” and left the room.  
Breaking her no spirits policy, Scarlett poured herself a small brandy and toasted herself. “Merry Christmas, Scarlett.” She shot it down. She felt the burn of it in her chest and her eyes watered. “Merry bloody Christmas.”  
Once in her bedroom, Scarlett turned the knob on the connecting door, she thought if she could slip in to Rhett's bed and just lie beside him while he slept she would be at least able to feel his warmth again but the door was locked. When she had, in her foolishness insisted on having the door fitted with a lock to prevent Rhett from entering her room, the lock had been built to work both ways. She wished she had the strength to knock it down. She tried tapping on the door but there was no reply. Though she felt sure Rhett wasn't asleep she couldn't impel him to open the door or himself to her.  
With a sigh, Scarlett got into her large bed and turned out the light. For a long time she lay there, trying to think of what she could have done differently. She had pushed Rhett too hard, expecting that by him coming home again, all would be well. Tomorrow she would do things differently – she would court him! Hadn't she been the belle of Clayton County and didn't she know how to make any man want her? She would pander to his vanity not through appealing to his strength but to his mind. Men always loved it when they felt superior to women. She would talk about the mills, no better yet, the store. She would ask his opinion and tell him how much she values his ideas. She would compliment him on his business sense, she would ask him which school he thought would be best for Wade, oh there was a hundred things she could say and do to let him know how important he was to her. If she could just get him to smile, even once, she would be able to ultimately get him again.  
But when Scarlett woke the following morning, Rhett had already gone. He must have left at dawn before anyone in the house was awake. She went into his dimly lit room, it smelled heavily of cigar smoke and she opened the drapes and the windows, letting in the grey light and damp, cool air. The bedclothes were barely rumpled, it didn't look like he had slept in the bed at all. He had taken the book of poetry with him. She hoped it gave him comfort. Left behind on the mantle was her Christmas gift to him, a gold cigar case. She opened it and read the inscription she had engraved –  
Always and Forever  
Your Scarlett  
*****************  
Are your eyes bloodshot and tired from squinting at your screens? Or were you sensible and read it in pieces? Considering this was originally supposed to be a one-shot I have gone a bit overboard with it. My apologies. Sonnet 30 was written by Shakespeare and the quote that Scarlett bookmarked was from Edmund Spenser, Daphnaida. The lines about the goldfish I am sure you all know comes from Our Lady of GWTW – Margaret Mitchell.


	3. Chapter 3

  

 

  **Absence – Chapter 3**

“ **In the confrontation between the stream and the rock, the stream always wins. Not throughstrength, but through persistence.” **

 

“Mother, are you awake?  I've brought you your beef tea.” Ella whispered.

The tabby stretched  herself out and sat up.   She began licking her paw and swooped it over to wash her face.  Scarlett smiled, she always liked watching a cat preening herself. 

“Mother?”

“Yes Ella, I'm awake.”  Scarlett tried to sit up but the pain in her chest stopped her.  “Aw” she gasped.

“Mother! Mother please.” Ella cried out

“Stop it, Ella” Scarlett gasped again. She struggled to sit up. “I'm not dying yet.  Soon but not this minute. Oh for God's sake girl, help me.”

Ella lifted the frail woman onto her back and plumped the pillows behind her.

“Oh dear God in Heaven, how much more of this am I going to have to endure.” Scarlett thought.  “Really the natives have a much better way of dealing with their old people.  Send them out to a mountain some place and let them die alone – at least they die in peace.”

“Here is your tea, Mother.  Let me spoon some in you.”

“Do I look like a child to you, Ella?  I think I know how to drink broth without any assistance.”

Ella held the small bowl up as Scarlett tried to sip from the spoon. She could feel the warm tea dribbling down her chin.  Ella gently dabbed her face with the linen cloth and tears filled her eyes. “It's alright Mother.  Drink some more.”

Scarlett shook her head.  “Take it away.  I'm not hungry anyway.” She hated this feeling of helplessness and the pity that pouring was out of Ella.  “Give it to the cat.”

“But Mother you need to keep your strength up, you need...”

Scarlett began to cough again, the pain hurt badly, she felt her heart racing as she struggled to breathe.

“Enough,” she gasped.  “Stop...Damn it stop it Scarlett!” she said to herself.

“Water, I want some water.” Scarlett waved towards the carafe on her table.

Ella put down the bowl and poured more water into the fine wine glass and holding her mother upright, feeling the bones of her emaciated body, she supported her as Scarlett slowly sipped the water, feeling it cool her ragged throat. 

Exhausted, she lay back on the pillows.  The cat was already lapping up the beef tea. 

“Can I do anything for you, Mother.” Ella said as she stroked Scarlett's hair.

Scarlett so wanted to say, 'yes, stopping touching me, stopping fussing over me, leave me alone so that I might die in peace.' but looking at her daughter, her simple innocence and belief that love was everything in life, Scarlett couldn't bring herself to be so cruel. 

She stopped Ella's hand and held it.  Ella bit her lip, trying to stay her tears. 

“I am very old, Ella.  You mustn't cry for me.  I have lived long enough, too long in fact.  I should have been dead and gone years ago but I was too stubborn.” Scarlett said with a ghost of her old smile.

Ella sobbed out and bent down to kiss Scarlett's hand, pressing so hard that the great emerald ring cut into Scarlett's finger. 

Clenching her teeth, Scarlett murmured “There, there my girl. That's enough.”

Why must she be tormented now when she was dying?  Was this retribution for her lack of mothering?  “Ella, enough, please.”

Ella looked up, her plump face was splotchy and her eyes were rimmed with red.  Really, how few women managed to look attractive when they cried, Scarlett thought.  She had practised crying when she was young and taught herself how to allow only a few tears to slowly roll down her face, never would she wipe them off, it would only cause things to get ugly.  By the time she was a belle she had mastered crying to such a high art that she could have tears sprinkle her lashes and a lone tear would stand out on her left cheek, there to be brushed off by which ever beau was the cause of her tears. 

If Ella had been more like Scarlett, she could have learned these tricks of a belle.  If Bonnie had lived she no doubt would have gobbled them up and even improved on them. 

Scarlett never really liked Ella.  She had loved her as she must, she was her mother after all.  But Ella was too weak-willed, too insipid to have ever gained Scarlett's admiration.  Nor had she ever been a beauty.  She had nice hands and for a short time when she was just coming into being a young woman, lowering her skirts and putting her hair up, she had a sweet prettiness.  Now she was plump and dull as dishwater.

Wade was given more respect from Scarlett – he was a man to begin with and Scarlett had always preferred the company of men over women. Wade had somehow overcome his childhood beginnings and grown into a very fine gentleman.  Polite, smart and strong.  He had a good reputation in Atlanta and was known for his sharp legal skills, most of the fine families used the firm of Hamilton, Crane and Hamilton. Many mothers would have been delighted to see him courting their daughters but so far none of the belles of Georgia had captured his heart.

Scarlett much preferred the company of Ella's children and they adored her.  Scarlett spoiled them shamelessly with extravagant toys and let them run wild whenever they came to visit. She told them stories of her youth and of the War, highly embellished and colourful.  They had bright, inquisitive minds and handsome looks. She was always amazed that the three of them came from Ella and Bob, who was a vain, pious prig in Scarlett's estimation.

Scarlett had hated Robert Edward Taggersal the Third on sight when he first came sniffing around Ella. He was tall and thin with a receding hair line which he desperately tried to cover by sculpting his remaining hair in swoops and swirls in the mistaken belief that no one would notice his balding head, his eyes were small and mean, piggy eyes as Mammy would have said and his mouth was always pursed tightly as if the air around him smelled.

Scarlett  knew Bob was more interested in her bank account and Ella's dowry than any romantic notions but Ella had fallen quickly in love with him as a young girl with plain features and no beaux would do.

Scarlett had given her permission for Bob to ask for Ella's hand and paid for the extravagant wedding.  She had bought them a house, nothing as grand as hers but still a fine home in the new district of Inman Park.  She had also, with the sharp minds of Wade and Phillip, managed to set up a trust for Ella and her children so tight that Bob would never gain control over their money.  She wished she could be around when her will was read – she would have enjoyed seeing Bob's reaction - just as she always enjoyed calling him Bob when he had always insisted on being called Robert.

“Mother, I am just going to get the maid to help me take the flowers out of the room for the night.”

“Really Ella, I don't think we need to worry about them as this point.  Leave them, I like to look at them.” Her room was filled with beautiful bouquets of hothouse flowers, every available surface had at least one vase on it. 

“But they're dangerous...” Ella gasped.

“Don't ridiculous, Ella.  They are flowers not poison.” Scarlett's patience broke. “ Enough – go, leave me alone.  I'm sure Bob is wanting his slippers warmed or his pipe filled.”

“Robert says that no one packs his pipe as well as I do.” Ella proudly said.

“Good – then off you go.  Take care of your husband.” Scarlett pressed.

“Is there anything you need?” Ella asked, plumping the pillows and smoothing the bed covers.

“No, just – actually yes.  Ella, be a dear and go to my dresser.”

Ella crossed the room to the tallboy. “In the bottom drawer, at the back left hand side, there is a glove box.  Get it for me.”

“Is it this, Mother?” Ella held up the long flat box.

“Yes, give it to me.” Ella passed the box to her and noticed a tear forming in Scarlett's eye.  “Are you alright, Mother?”

Scarlett raised her chin, “Yes, now go to your husband.  I'll ring if I need anything.”

“Robert wants to come in for a chat with you.  Shall I tell him to come after dinner?” Scarlett groaned, would she dead by then? Hopefully - anything to avoid a 'chat with Bob'.

“Yes, fine.  If I'm awake.  Now go, Ella.” Scarlett dismissed her daughter and turned her attention to the long, fine black gloves, faintly smelling of the lavender she had long ago tucked in the box.

Never used, always treasured.

 

*********************

 

The children had been upset when Scarlett had told them that Rhett had left.  They had thought that he was home for good, as had she.

Her lie that he had to leave on business was easily believed by Ella but Wade had known it wasn't true.  He could tell his mother was upset and he endeavoured to do all he could to help her.  He had kept Ella entertained, playing endless games of Pictures and letting her win most times, reading her baby books and even playing dress up, which he fervently  hoped none of his friends would find out about. In the evening he had knocked on the library door, holding Scarlett's fur wrap.

Scarlett sat on the sofa, staring at the fire burning, lost in her sadness.

“We are ready for our walk, Mother.”

Scarlett looked up at him breaking away from her dark thoughts.  “Not tonight Wade.  I'm too tired.”

Wade walked in the room and said, “Yes, tonight.  We all need some air, isn't that what you always say?”

Scarlett looked in his soft brown eyes and felt his determination. “Very well, Wade. Just a short one. ”

 

1874 opened and Scarlett put her thoughts towards her work at hand and kept her dreams of Rhett out of her mind until she was alone at night.  She had taken the keys from the locks on Rhett's doors and put them away in her own bedside table. If he should ever return, she would not be locked out again.

India Wilkes' plan for worker's cottages was moving forwards and Scarlett was also busy expanding the lumberyard to include an adjoining hardware store.  It made sense for the contractors to be able to buy all their supplies when they were also buying their planks of wood. 

Ashley was rarely about – often Scarlett and India had made the rounds of the two mills and the lumberyard and hadn't seen Ashley at all.

In February, Beau began to cut through the privet hedge between Aunt Pitty's and his own house on Ivy Street.  He would ask if he could have some dinner and sit with them as his father was asleep and he was lonely.  It became clear that the sleeping medicine that Dr. Meade had first prescribed for Ashley after Melly's death had taken control over Ashley and he now spent his days lost in a fog of laudanum.   Scarlett accompanied by India, had tried to talk to him about it. 

He sat slumped in his chair before the small, smouldering coal fire, Scarlett could see the whiskers beneath his chin that he had missed when shaving, she saw the egg spattered on his waistcoat, she felt his utter dejection.

“Ashley you must take better care of yourself – you must try.”

He stared at his hands folded loosely in his lap and listlessly said “Let me be, Scarlett.  The medicine makes it easier for me, it blurs the sharp edges.”

Scarlett understood well what he meant.  For too long she had used brandy to blur things and she felt a sense of shame over how dependent she had become to it.  She was thankful she had broken free of tantalizing grip of spirits -  her vanity, more than her pride, had saved her from from spiralling into becoming a drunken sot.  But Ashley was lost in the world without Melly and if the opiate helped him through these dark times, who was she to tell him to stop?

It was decided however, that it would be best if Beau moved in with Scarlett, just until Ashley was able to cope with things better.   She bought the little boy the promised pony and sent he and Wade to school.  For Ella, a governess was hired, as Scarlett knew Ella had no brains for learning and the money would have been wasted sending her to school.  As long as she was able to read and add simple sums, she would be alright, especially with Scarlett's money behind her.

And Scarlett continued with her letters to Rhett – never getting a reply, but she persevered, knowing that he read them and maybe some day he would respond.  The worst thing Scarlett could think of was that Rhett would forget about her and move on.  Her letters were the tiny thread that held them together.  Rhett's mother sometimes wrote, not with any news but with the hope that Scarlett could some how help her son.

Some nights Scarlett was so tired.  She was struggling to help so many others and she had no one there to help her. Even with all her money she couldn't make everything right, she couldn't make everyone happy.   She craved for Rhett, she wanted him beside her, encouraging her with her plans and her hopes for the future, giving her strength to carry on. She wanted him beside her so that she could tell him how much she loved him and how important he was to her. Melly was a silent ghost hovering over her, watching Scarlett mother her son and trying to help Ashley.  Some nights, Scarlett wept with desperate tears.

In the mornings, Scarlett would wash her sadness away and straighten her back, ready to do battle with the coming day.

Then came April - why was April always the worst month of the year for Scarlett?  The War had started in April, her young girl dreams of marrying Ashley had been crushed in April, April when she married Charles , it was April when General Lee had surrendered, Ella had been born in April and  Rhett had left her taking Bonnie away in April.  Always April.

The April of 1874 was another to add to the list.  Pork had tapped on her door. 

“Miss Scarlett – wake up!  Miss Scarlett, you needed.”

Scarlett hazily woke, confused by Pork's calling to her.

“Jebba, get in there and wake yours mistress.  Miss Scarlett!”

Jebba, Scarlett's maid opened the door.  “Ma'am, Pork needs ya.”

“What is it, Pork.  You may come in.” Scarlett struggled away from sleep.

Pork stood at the door, wringing his hands.  “Miss Scarlett, you needs t' get up now.  Someting bad happened.”

Scarlett shot out of her bed, Jebba draped her robe around her. “Tell me Pork, what is wrong?”

“Message jest came from Miss India.  You needs to get to Miss Pitty's.”

“Why, is Aunt Pitty sick?”

“No'um, worse.  Jebba, get Miss Scarlett dressed.  I'll get the carriage ready.  Hurry girl.  Please Miss Scarlett, hurry and get dressed.”

Scarlett was dressed and her hair was still in it's long plait as she ran out the door, Joseph had the carriage waiting and pushed the horses into a full gallop towards Aunt Pitty's.  Stepping out on to the sidewalk before Pitty's house, Scarlett smelt smoke, wood smoke and she hurried into the house, not bothering with knocking.

Pitty sat sobbing in her frilly night cap and frothy night attire, Uncle Peter's eyes streamed with tears as he tried to get the coal burning in the grate of the fireplace.

“India, what has happened?”

India was hunched over, crying.  Scarlett had never seen her cry before and was shocked.  A cold fear came over her.

“India, answer me, what has happened?” Scarlett insisted.

Looking up with red, tear soaked eyes, India harshly rasped, “He's dead.” and she sobbed loudly. Pitty joined in, keening and crying.

“Whose dead, India?  Tell me!”

“Ashley...” India croaked before her tears took over.

Scarlett stood bewildered.    Ashley – A roaring came to her ears and she couldn't breathe. The room started to spin and she felt feverishly hot then just as quickly, icy cold. 

Ashley dead?  Her mind refused to take it in. She tried to grasp hold of something solid, something to avoid this madness.

“Uncle Peter, is Cookie awake? If not wake her – we need tea, strong tea with lots of sugar.  Get Auntie's swoon bottle and three glasses.”

Uncle Peter straightened and wiped his face, glad to have something to do, to be told what to do.   “I'll make the tea, Miss.”

“Thank you Uncle Peter.” Scarlett said, seeing the deep anguish in the old man's eyes. “Oh Uncle Peter, I'm so sorry” Scarlett put out her hand to him.  He had loved Ashley as much anyone.

She softly said, “Have a sip from the swoon bottle too, Uncle Peter.  It is going to be a long night and you'll need to be strong for me.”

“Yessum, Miss. I can't believe it, Mr. Ashley gone..” His rheumy wrinkled eyes welled up with tears again.

“I know, Uncle Peter.” Scarlett patted him on his arm. “It is unbelievable.”

India had stopped sobbing and sat staring blindly.  Tears kept running down her thin cheeks as she clutched her arms tightly around her chest and rocked herself back and forth. 

“India, you have to tell me what happened.” Scarlett gently said.

India started to shake her head and didn't respond.  Pitty cried as pitifully as a young girl.

Scarlett's mind still would not allow her to take in what had happened.  Thoughts and memories swirled around her.  Ashley, riding up to Tara, the golden prince on his white steed. Ashley with the vivid red mark on his cheek from her slap.  The dejected man, forced to work at lumber mills to make his wife happy.  The lost man he had become after Melly's death. 

She didn't get the whole story until after India had gulped down her brandy and had begun to come out of her state of shock, restored by the sweet tea. 

“It was sometime after three when I woke up to the clanging bell of the fire brigade.” India tightly spoke. “ The night soil man had first sounded the alarm and all the men around had started a bucket line.  By the time the brigade came with their water truck, it was too late, the house was engulfed.  Dr. Meade told me that Ashley must have fallen asleep in his chair – they think that maybe a lamp was knocked over or maybe an ember from the fire ignited the carpet.  We don't know and probably will never know.”

Scarlett had helped Pitty into bed, comforting her as best as possible and holding her hand until she drifted off to sleep.   She left India in the parlour after briefly discussing the funeral arrangements – Ashley's body had already been to taken to the mortuary.  It would be a closed casket ceremony.  

Stepping out on to the porch, Scarlett saw the pink lights of the early dawn streaked across the sky.  She needed air, she needed to get away from the suffocating sadness.  She imagined running through green fields, past silent woods and a cool slow moving stream.  She could feel the muscles in her legs tighten and she had a rush of desire to run. 

Joseph stood patiently waiting to take her home in her carriage.

“Go home, Joseph – I want to walk.  Tell Pork I will be home in half an hour, ask him for coffee to be prepared and tell Jebba to run me a hot bath.  Make sure know one mentions anything to the children -  I will see them after they breakfast.”

Joseph tugged on his hat and turned the horses towards home.

Scarlett walked around the house, feeling the heavy dew dampen her long dress. She pushed through the back hedge and looked at what had once been Melly's home.  One side of the main floor had been largely gutted and the second story seemed ready to cave in.  Small areas still smouldered and the air was acrid and sharp to her eyes.   Melly had been so happy with her little house and she and Ashley had filled it with books and rag tag finery. Scarlett had always sneered at it, it was nothing compared to her grand house and yet this house had been a grander palace then anything Scarlett had owned.  This little bungalow had been a home.

Scarlett hadn't shed a tear yet – no doubt it was wicked of her but she felt no sorrow that Ashley had died.  Of course it was a terrible way for him to die but she felt sure that Ashley was glad to be finished with his mortal life and he must be happy to once again be with Melly. 

“What a mess I made of it all.”  Scarlett thought as she sat on the small wrought iron bench that circled the tall apple tree, now coated in soot and the new leaves and early blossoms  scorched from the fire.   Why hadn't she accepted that Ashley didn't love her, had never loved her.  Why had she chased him for so long, had she really thought that he would have left Melly for her?  Her bull headed obstinacy had caused her to be blind to the honest friendship of Melly and the true love of Rhett.  Because of her, Ashley had been forced to live in Atlanta and work as a lumber man.  Would have he been happier if they had moved to New York and he had become a banker?

“Ma'am, you shouldn't be near here – that house may tumble at any time now.” 

An overweight firemen stood before her sweating in his heavy wool coat, he and the black man behind held rakes to scrape the remaining embers out.

“Are you alright, ma'am? Was this your house?  Can I help ya?”

Scarlett looked at the fat man, he had kind eyes. 

“Do you have some place to go ma'am?”

Scarlett stood up and smiled. “Thank you sir I do.” She felt tears pricking her eyes at the man's kindness.  “Good morning.” she said politely and she walked through the rickety  gate onto Ivy Street and turned her way home.

“If he had any gumption he would have left.” Scarlett thought as she stretched her legs and walked towards home.  Her gown was soaked and it dragged heavily behind her.  “Ashley was too weak-willed, he was too weak to say no to me, to say no to Melly. How did she get pregnant again if not for his weakness?  No wonder he drugged himself these last few months – it was because of him she died.” 

The sun was rising now and birds were beginning their morning songs.

Ashley had never really known her.  He liked to imagine she was still the sweet belle of Clayton County, the facade she had put on then, young, innocent, simple minded yet he had always known she was stronger than him.

_"If he loved you, then why in hell did he permit you to come to Atlanta to get the tax money? Before I'd let a woman I loved do that, I'd--"_

_"He didn't know! He had no idea that I--"_

_"Doesn't it occur to you thatprecious mind he should have known?" "Loving you as you say he does, he should have known just what you would do when you were desperate. He should have killed you rather than let you come up here--and to me, of all people! God in Heaven!"_

_"But he didn't know!"_

_"If he didn't guess it without being told, he'll never know anything about you and your precious mind."_

Ashley had known and he hadn't cared. Not enough to stop her from selling herself to save Tara and everyone there. If he had really loved her he would have committed highway robbery to help her. It was easier for him to have the two women in his life steer him and tend him while he lived in his dreams of the past. He had lost them both – Melly by death and Scarlett by her awakening to Rhett's love.

If she had shown half the love towards Rhett she had wasted on Ashley, how different would things be now? Oh but Ashley had made sure she didn't, with all his pretty words of honour and when he started to sense she was loosing interest in him and had become comfortable with her marriage, he began disparaging Rhett at every chance. He managed with his false words to convince her that Rhett was unworthy of her, that Rhett had somehow debased her. How could she have been so stupid to believe him when Rhett's love was staring at her straight in the face. 

The cruel joke of it all – one man had pretended to love her but convinced her that for honour's sake he could not do anything and the other man, he who had sneered at honour, had pretended not to love her and had convinced her she was nothing but a pet.

Scarlett was angry, most of all with herself, she felt guilt mixed with frustration. She wanted to stomp on Ashley's grave, she wished he was still alive so she could tell him what a bastard he had been. If she only hadn't been so foolish, if she had only not been so vain to not accept that Ashley had never loved her. Why even Pa had told her that he wouldn't have wanted Ashley for his son-in-law.

Rhett had tried to tell her but she was so blinded by the memory of the young Prince Ashley riding up to Tara on his white horse and squiring her about but never fully giving himself to her like her other beaux. He had been the unattainable, the one that kept her dangling not the other way around. Scarlett had been taken in by the tricks she had used herself on all her other young beaux. 

Yes, she was rich and her children would never again feel the pains of hunger. She had a fine house and beautiful clothes, servants at her beck and call but none of these things meant anything to her now. They all were meaningless without Rhett beside her. 

Walking down the quiet streets, Scarlett stepped with determination. She would make things right with Rhett no matter how much he pushed her away. He would one day finally know how much she loved him and he would love her again.

                                                                                   ************************

It had all been another harsh test of Scarlett's strength. Beau had grown painfully silent when Scarlett had told him of his father's death. He didn't cry but hid himself away from everyone, refusing company and sympathy. 

The funeral was hellish with Pitty wailing loudly as Honey ineffectually tried to soothe her and the rest of the mourners sneering at Scarlett. They blamed Scarlett for everything to do with Ashley. Surprisingly it was India that stood by her, holding her hand for their mutual support. India had been the only one that had known what Ashley's last few months had been. She knew how hard Scarlett had tried to help.

At the tea that followed the service, Mrs. Elsing said loud enough for Scarlett to hear, “I am surprised at you, India. I never thought you of all people would stand beside that woman.” glaring at Scarlett  with all her spiteful hatred. Scarlett pretended she hadn't heard the insult and began to move away from India. India grasped Scarlett's hand, holding her near. 

“I stand by the woman who did all she could to help my brother. Is that such a sin, Mrs. Elsing? What did you do to help my brother?”

Mrs. Elsing grew flustered and blew air out of her pursed lips, “Well I never, why I...”

Pulling Scarlett away, India said, “Scarlett, I wanted to ask you about what you may have heard about the new building on Market Street.”

Moving towards the library, Scarlett whispered, “Thank you, India. You didn't have to say that.”
    
    
    “

I know I didn't.” India stiffly said. “ But I meant it. You have surprised me Scarlett. I understand now why Melly cared so   
deeply for you.”  
The following Monday after the funeral, Beau came into the library dressed in the tailored brown suit that Scarlett had bought   
him for the funeral, his hair was carefully slicked down and his face scrubbed clean. 
    
    
     “

Auntie Scarlett – can I ask you something?” he tentatively said.
    
    
    “

Of course Beau.” Scarlett said, turning away from the letter she was composing, giving her full attention to him.The young boy  
tried to stay brave but his lip began to tremble and his throat gulped.
    
    
     “

I am going to work at the mill but I don't know how. Papa never taught me.” 
    
    
    “

What do you mean, you are going to work at the mill?” Scarlett said.
    
    
    “

Everyone said I have to be a man now that Mama and Papa are gone now and men go to work so I am going to work now, but I  
don't know how. Could you please tell me what to do?” His mouth clenched as he tried to stay strong.
    
    
    “

Come here Beau.” Scarlett pulled him into her arms. He allowed her to hold him, his body tight with the fear of suddenly being  
thrown into a grownup life which he knew nothing about and the deep sadness over the death of his parents.Scarlett stroked his  
back and held him tightly, feeling him tremor. Her anger rose at the fools that had frightened this little boy.
    
    
     “ 

You don't have to go to work yet, Beau. You are my son now. You are like Wade.” She felt his resistance. She thought for a  
minute, trying to find the words to help him."You know, the day you were born, your Mother asked me to take care of you if  
anything should happen to her, did she ever tell you that?” Beau nodded his head against Scarlett's shoulder. 
    
    
    “ 

And when she died she reminded me of it and I promised to her that I would raise you as my own.” Scarlett rocked him gently.  
“ Do you think I would force you to go out and work? Would your mother want that?” Beau shook his head tentatively. 
    
    
    “

When you are a grown up, after you have finished going to University, then you will go out into the world. You will find a  
profession you enjoy, then you will find a beautiful woman you love and you will marry and have babies and be happy. But for  
now, you will be my son and you will let me take care of you.”  
Beau looked up at Scarlett, a look of relief came over the little boy's face.  
“Thank you, Auntie.” His clear soft face clouded with another worry. “But Auntie, I can't pay you.”
    
    
    “

Hmm, you can't? No gold mines hidden away, no large diamonds in you pant pockets?” Beau laughed as he patted his pockets. 
    
    
    “ 

Well then Beau Wilkes, I suggest we make a bargain. One kiss a day and when you are at university, I expect one letter a week.  
Do you agree with my terms?” Scarlett said with a smile.  
Beau grinned and held out his hand. “I agree to your terms, Auntie.” And he kissed her on her cheek.
    
    
    “

My first payment.”   
  
**************************  
Life changed and then settled into a new routine for Scarlett. Beau became her other son, a brother for Wade and for Ella.  
India, Uncle Henry and Scarlett discussed what should be done with the mills and it was jointly decided that they should be sold  
now that they were making such profits and the money was to be put aside in a Trust for Beau when he reached his majority.  
India was as sad as Scarlett to see the mills passed out of their hands. She had enjoyed the work and using her mind for   
something more than what flowers should be planted at the Cemetery or which tea should be served at the next ladies luncheon.   
Scarlett sensed India's upset and insisted that the lumber yard with it's adjoining hardware store was kept with a condition from   
the sale of the mills that they got first privilege on any lumber from the mills. 
    
    
    “I

ndia, you will need to take care of them. I am much too busy with the store and Tara to be able to keep a sharp eye on them. We  
can't let Beau loose his inheritance to bad management. What would Melly think of us if we didn't watch over his interest.?   
Besides, I don't know any person, man or woman, that can tell Georgia pine from jack pine as quick as you, nor one that can eye  
a board for straightness without a tape. And you always seem to able to measure out a pound of nails faster than anyone.”   
Scarlett again managed to get India to agree to what she actually wanted to do in the first place with her charm and sweet words.  
  
Not surprisingly, no one talked ill of India for working at a man's job but Scarlett let it roll off her back.The sale of the mills had  
hurt Scarlett just as much as when they had been transferred to Ashley. She had raised them as much as she had raised Tara back  
to it's former glory. But she knew she had to let them go if not just for Beau but for Rhett.   
  
Melly's little house on Ivy Street had to be pulled down for safety sake and the back hedge was dug out to expand Aunt Pitty's  
back garden. The lot was kept in Beau's name and he would be able to build his own house on it when he turned twenty-one.  
  
Scarlett did write Rhett to inform him of Ashley's death. She hoped he would return home to her, knowing that his former   
adversary was gone, but again she received no reply from him. After a few weeks, impatiently waiting for the letter than never  
came, she wrote Mrs. Butler, asking after Rhett. The return letter came quickly -  
 _My Dearest Scarlett;_ _It was so nice to get a letter from you. I am glad to hear the children are well and working hard at their  
studies.   
How kind of you to take in your nephew as another son. It must be very hard for the young lad to have lost both his parents.  
I do remember his mother, Mrs. Wilkes. She was such a lovely lady.  
_ _The weather is warm and my garden is flourishing, thank you for asking. My camellia is in full bloom right now. It is always so  
beautiful to see the pink blossoms but they last such a short time.  
_ _I am sorry I can't tell you how Rhett is right now as I haven't heard from him recently. He did receive the letter you sent him in  
April. Shortly after it came he said he had a sudden desire to take a trip to Canada of all places! I did get a card from him two  
weeks ago which he posted in Montreal, if that is of any help to you. I will tell him you were asking after him when I get an  
address to send him a letter.   
__My invitation is still open for you to come to Charleston. I would so much like to see the children again. I can't imagine how  
they have grown since the last time I saw them!  
_ _With My Great Fondness_ _Juliet Butler  
_ _Poste Script – Of course your nephew would be welcome to come for a visit as well. I would very much like to meet him._  
  
Canada? Why would anyone want to go to Canada of all places, especially Rhett? Scarlett couldn't understand why he had left   
Charleston and gone to Montreal. She had been convinced he would come home to Atlanta - to her, when he had heard about  
Ashley.  
A sick feeling washed over her. Maybe he really didn't love her anymore. Maybe his love had 'worn out' after all. No, no it   
wasn't possible. Love doesn't wear out, not real love. He is running again, running from her and from his love of her. Scarlett  
rallied. If anything this was a good sign. His feelings for her were returning and so he had to run away, though why anyone  
would run to Canada she could not fathom. The only one she knew that had ever gone there had been Jefferson Davis and his   
wife, Varina, after he was released from the Yankee jail and they only stayed there until a rich widow offered him a house back  
in Mississippi. Scarlett wondered if it was true that the people lived in houses made of blocks of ice. A shiver went down her  
spine just thinking about living anywhere so cold. But Rhett had gone there, no doubt to try to cool his ardour for her – of course  
what better place for him to go than cold Canada? He will soon tire of it and he will come back South again.  
  
Shortly after, a letter came addressed to Wade – the stamp was of a dour, grim-faced woman but the writing was obviously   
Rhett's. She could tell his strong hand anywhere. Scarlett desperately wanted to tear open the envelope but forced herself to wait  
until Wade came home from school.  
Wade was beside himself when he was told a letter had come addressed to him and Scarlett had sat impatiently while Wade   
stared at the envelope.
    
    
    “

Well, aren't you going to open it?” Scarlett said.
    
    
    “

I've never gotten a letter before, Mother.” Wade said, holding the letter in his hand as if it was a precious gem.
    
    
    “

Yes, I know – so open it!” Scarlett implored.  
Wade carefully slit the envelope with Scarlett's fine silver letter opener and slowly pulled out the paper within. He unfolded the  
letter and two Carte de Viste fell out – Wade looked at them, ignoring the letter they were wrapped in. 
    
    
    “

Oh look Mother – it is an Indian Chief, look at his feather headdress and the other is two men wearing animal pelts, look how  
hairy they are!” Wade was fascinated by the photographs. 
    
    
    “

What does the letter say, who is it from?” Scarlett prompted.  
Wade reluctantly looked away from the photographs of the wild men and turned his attention to the letter. He slowly, oh God so   
slowly, unfolded the paper and read out loud to Scarlett -  
 **Dear Wade** **How are you, son?**  
Wade squirmed with embarrassment – though he liked the thought of being Uncle Rhett's son,   
he wasn't sure how his mother would feel about another man other than his real father calling him son. Wade had never really  
known his father, he only knew what Auntie Melly had told him. He had often imagined how brave his father had been to have   
gone off to War when he had only just married Mother. He wondered if he had ever been scared and he wondered if his Father  
would have been proud of his son.
    
    
    “

Go on.” Scarlett said. “What else does it say?”  
  
 **Dear Wade** **How are you, son? I am way up north in Canada. Do you know where that is? You will have to get out the  
globe and take a look for it. I am now in Ontario, it is a province. They have provinces here, not states, but they are the   
same thing. ****It is warm and very green. It is a country of many lakes and rivers. The people are kind, some of the speak  
English and some of them speak French. ****I have been portaging along some of the old Indian trails. I think you would  
enjoy it. Next time I come, I will bring you along.** **I thought you should start a stamp collection and you could use the  
stamp on the envelope to begin with. The lady on the stamp is Queen Victoria. ****Give your sister a kiss from me and a pat  
on the shoulder to Beau. ****Yours** **Uncle Rhett**  
  
Wade folded the letter back up and returned it to the envelope. He looked again at the pictures of the natives.
    
    
    “

Is that all the letter says, Wade?” Scarlett asked.
    
    
    “

Yes Mother. Would you like to read it?”  
Scarlett grasped the envelope and quickly scanned over the writing. It was as Wade had read. Nothing for her, no mention or  
query over her. And yet, he had written a letter, not to her but to her son. It was a beginning. Her patience and perseverance was  
beginning to pay off. She had kept the thread between them.  
Scarlett grinned. “How lovely for you. You must put the pictures in your scrap book.”  
She then surprised Wade by giving him a kiss on the head and ruffling his hair before walking away singing, “When this cruel  
war is over....”  
 _ **My many thanks to those of you that are persevering with this story. I know it is a bit of a slog. Also my thanks to  
DreamGWTW who is always there for me. I am sure you know the quote midway down came from Our Lady of GWTW, MM.  
**_ __ **PS – I am not sure where the chapter's opening quote came from, possibly Buddha.**


	4. chapter 4

 

_**With many thanks to Iris and Sara for their suggestions and encouragement and to Bluey for her advise from years ago. The asterisked lines are quotes from the book.** _

 

**Chapter 4**

**To love and be loved is life's greatest pleasure.**

**To love and be scorned is life's greatest torment.**

 

 

 

“And I hope you realize how much Ella has done for you over the years. You always said how you would be lost without her. What is that old saying? Ah yes, 'A son is a son until he takes a wife, a daughter is a daughter for the whole of her life.' How true, how true - especially with our dear Ella.”

Hardly pausing to take a breath, Bob continued. “I know how much joy the children have brought to you as well. Ella and the children love this house so much. It must be all the extra room compared to our little place over in Inman Park. Not that I am disparaging it at all. It was very generous of you to give it to us as a wedding present when we were newlyweds but what is fine for two is somewhat cramped for five, as I am sure you can agree.”

Bob tried to smile but such a thing was so unusual, his face instead squirmed into an ugly grimace.

“Poor Wade – sad he has never married. A man needs a little woman beside him and children, what a joy they are to any man. I often wonder about a man who delays marriage. It seems a rather selfish thing, don't you agree?”

Bob did not wait for a reply but continued on his oration.

“ I would think my dear brother-in-law would be lost, rattling around in this place by himself. It would him make feel even lonelier. You designed this masterpiece didn't you? And it was due to your great eye for beauty it is one of Atlanta's grandest homes.”

Scarlett bit her cheek to stop from laughing.

“Oh dear God in Heaven – he is as oily as the stuff he uses on his thinning hair. How I wish Rhett was here, what choice words would he have had for Bob!” Scarlett smiled at the thought.

Sadly, this smile encouraged Bob to continue on with his little speech. Scarlett wondered how long he had been practising it, probably from the minute he married Ella, though no doubt he had added bits here and there after each of her grandchildren were born.

“I am sure you love both your children- you had another didn't you? Ella has mentioned to me she once had a little sister. Her name was Eugenie wasn't it?”

Scarlett froze – no one had ever called Bonnie 'Eugenie' ever, she had always been Bonnie. And it was doubtful Ella had ever known Bonnie's real name – though it was on the birth certificate. Scarlett was alert now, though she hid it from Bob. Why was he talking about Bonnie, what was his scheme?

“I am confident you want to ensure your children's happiness even when you are gone to the Great Divide, which won't be for many years yet, I am sure. No doubt you did make your wishes for the future known with your lawyer. Was it Wade who handled it? How long ago, Mother Butler? Do you remember?”

Bob's piggy little eyes bored into Scarlett's. When she didn't respond, he continued on.

“Not to worry. It is hard to keep all these trivial matters straight, especially for a woman.”

Scarlett noticed the little beads of sweat forming on Bob's very high forehead, he must be closing in on the trickiest part of his swindle.

He attempted another smile and pulled out a thick document from his ever present briefcase.

“ I had the foresight to think you may like to update your final wishes and I hope you don't think me too presumptive but I had this document drawn up for you. All you need to do is sign here at the bottom of the page and then you can rest, knowing your children and your grandchildren will be well taken care of and that they will always be thankful for your generosity. Here is my pen, all ready for you.”

Bob pushed the pen into Scarlett's hand and moved it towards the bottom of the folded page. Scarlett refused to grasp the pen in her hand.

Bob scowled. “I know you are tired, Mother Butler. Just an X will suffice if you are unable to write your name. Shall I guide your hand?”

Scarlett felt a fury of hate towards this man, it poured through her just as when she saw the Yankee rooting through her mother's sewing box, both men were picking at the bones of dead women.

 

Scarlett gripped the pen in her hand, willing herself not to jab it into Bob's eye and straight through to his brain matter.

“No Bob. I am not tired and I am sure I can manage without your guidance. My, what an elegant pen you have.” Scarlett said with an old lady's simper. “Now, where are my glasses....”

Scarlett rang the small china bell which sat on her bedside table.

“Really Mother Butler, there is no need to ring...” Bob started to say as Scarlett's maid entered the room.

“Oh Jeje, do you know where my glasses are?”Scarlett said, making her voice querulous.

“Right here Miss.” Jeje opened the top drawer of the bedside table and pulled out the leather glass case. Cracking it open, she pulled out the wire framed glasses and handed them to Scarlett.

“Ah, that's better.” Scarlett said as she hooked the frames over her ears and adjusted the lenses.

“Is dere anything else, Miss.” Jeje asked.

“Yes, is Mr. Crane downstairs?”

“Yessum miss. He came 'bout half hour ago.”

“Ask him if he could come here. I need his counsel.” The small woman moved towards the door. “Oh and Jeje, please come back too. I'll need a chaperone, entertaining a gentleman in my bedroom, can you imagine what people would say!”

Bob's complexion had paled to the colour of boiled tripe.

He gave a false laugh - “Oh dear, Mother Butler, you don't need your lawyer involved do you? Don't you trust me?”

Scarlett looked him directly in his eye, “No Bob, I don't,” she thought. “Not as far as I could throw you - which would be out the window if I had my way.”

“Really, maybe we should wait for another time to discuss this, Mother Butler. You must be too tired. If you could just pass me the document, we will forget about it for now.”

Scarlett smiled and began to hum an old song as she held tightly on to the papers. If he called her Mother Butler one more time, Scarlett was determined to spray ink from the fountain pen all over his very correct shoes.

There was a soft tap at the door and a tall, slender man entered, followed by Jeje who made herself inconspicuous in the far corner of the room. The gentleman was very handsome, with silvered hair worn longer than most, grazing his shoulders and a straight nose and firm chin that might have come from a French aristocrat. His eyes,the colour of the dark blue of the sea, sparkled with kindness as he looked at Scarlett.

“Scarlett” he said and took her hand.

“Hello Phillip - thank you for coming. It is very opportune you being here. You know my son-in-law, Bob, don't you?”

The men bowed formally to each other. Bob took his handkerchief out and mopped his now heavily sweating brow.

“Bob has been concerned about my final wishes and being the good son-in-law that he is, he kindly took it upon himself to have this document made up for me.” Scarlett placidly said as she passed the thick packet of papers to Phillip. “But I have remembered all your scolding to me Phillip and wanted you to check it over before I sign it.”

Phillip took the document and silently read through it. At one point he looked at Bob with such anger, Scarlett wondered if Bob's weak chin was in danger of being broken.

Folding the papers, Phillip walked over towards the fire.

“I don't think you would be interested in signing this, Scarlett. You have already arranged in your will how you want to distribute your assets. Are you content with what we previously discussed?”

“Yes, perfectly.”

“Really Mr. Crane” Bob began to stutter. “I was just looking after my dear mother-in-law and my loving wife. I want to ensure both of their wishes. If I stepped over my bounds, I apologize.”

“Sir, in my opinion you did step too far. I suggest this paper be put in the fire, if that is acceptable to you, Scarlett?”

“What does it say, Phillip?” Scarlett asked, wanting to make Bob squirm more.

Bob quickly interrupted, “Oh you don't need to worry yourself, Mother Butler – it was just an idea of mine. I was just trying to help.”

Scarlett could see his hand twitching, desperate to snatch the document away from Phillip. His eyes darted between Phillip's and Scarlett's, hoping for either of them to say something, but both stayed mute, enjoying his discomfort.

Bob finally broke the silence. “Oh was that Ella calling – no doubt she needs some help with the children. Ah – good night Mr. Crane - sleep well Mother Butler, I will see you in the morning. Good night.” And Bob scurried out of the room as quickly as he could.

Scarlett laughed as she watched his fat bottom bounce out. Phillip smiled at her.

“Your laughter always brings me such joy, Scarlett”

“Does it Phillip? Thank you. It has been a while since I've gotten a compliment from anyone.”

“I would have spent my life complimenting you and never would have run out of things to say.”

“Now you are making me blush.” Scarlett smiled at him, trying to coax the dimples back into her thin cheeks.

'My Lord, here I am on my death bed flirting. Old habits do die hard after all.' she thought with a smile.

_“When will you stop looking for compliments in men's lightest utterances?'_

_“When I'm on my deathbed,” she replied and smiled, thinking that there would always be men to compliment her, even if Rhett never did._

_“Vanity, vanity,” he said. “At least, you are frank about it.”*_

She was vain, and deservedly so, she thought proudly. She had kept her looks and her figure longer than most. She would make a beautiful corpse in her fine mahogany casket with it's peach satin lining. Scarlett, ever meticulous with her appearance, had arranged everything for her funeral, right down to the slippers for her feet. Hopefully JeJe would remember how Scarlett wished her hair to be dressed.

 

“What does Bob's paper say?” Scarlett asked.

“It is a deed signing over this house and property to him and a caveat which states any money you have willed to Ella and her children should be under his control.”

Scarlett grimaced – she had always known Bob was simply interested in Ella's money.

“My will is strong though, Phillip? He won't be able to gain control over her?”

Phillip patted Scarlett's thin hand. “It is steel tight, Scarlett. I made sure of it after you told me your concerns. Ella will be given her share of your estate, it will be held in a trust overseen by the firm and upon her death, it will be transferred to her children.”

Scarlett sighed.

“Those were your wishes were they not?”

“Yes, I know. Thank you Phillip. I wish I could just give her the money without the trust watching over it. Wade doesn't have that. I know it is for the best, considering Bob and taking in account Ella's lack of money sense.”

“If anything, I think Ella would be happy with the terms. It relieves her of any pressure from Bob.” Phillip said.

“He won't give up without some kind of fight, you know that don't you? His attempt tonight proves it.” Scarlett replied.

“But the codicil you insisted on adding will dissuade him. He would be a fool to contest the will if it will cost him the fifteen thousand dollars you have left him on the condition he stay married to Ella until their last child reaches their majority and he relinquishes all claims to your estate.”

“True, one of my better ideas wasn't it?”

“You have a fine head for business, Scarlett. And such a beautiful one.”

“Thank you my old friend.” Scarlett patted his hand. “You have always been very kind to me. Phillip, I'm not sure if this means anything but Bob brought up Bonnie. He used her christened name, Eugenie. It made me wonder what he is up to.”

“I can't think how your youngest child could affect your estate, Scarlett. Did Rhett leave behind anything for her?”

“No, why would he? She died long before him.” A memory came, of Rhett carrying Bonnie on his shoulder, her blue velvet riding habit sweeping over his arm, they were laughing over one of their secrets and Scarlett had felt left out.

“Bonnie, you are too big to be carried. Rhett put her down.”

The two of them had looked at each other and laughed again. Rhett had swirled Bonnie round and then had carried her out of the room, leaving Scarlett alone.

Scarlett began to cough again. “Phillip, I think I need to rest now.”

“Of course, my dear.” Phillip stood up.

Scarlett held his hand. “I want you to know how much I appreciate all you have done for me and my family.”

Phillip kissed her thin hand.

“I wish I could have done more.” he softly said.

Scarlett, trying to lighten the somber tone smiled and said, “I shall mention to St. Peter you deserve to pass through the gates quickly. That is, if I go to heaven.”

Phillip laughed, “I can't imagine anywhere else you would go. It has been an honour to have known you, Scarlett. I will never forget you.”

With a courtly bow and a fond look, Phillip left the room.

“The poor man.” Scarlett thought.

Scarlett had always known how taken Phillip had been with her but she made it clear any love she had in her heart was taken by another. She had forestalled his courting by mentioning Rhett, told him of her love for him, made him her confidant of all which had happened between them.

“Never try to love someone that loves another, Phillip. It can only bring more heartache.”

“Even when the other lover is no longer around.”

“Especially when he is no longer around. You can never compete with a memory.”

 

“Jeje...”

“Yas ma'am. Do you needs anything?” The tiny black woman stepped out of the shadow, towards the bed. Her dark brown eyes always had such a spark one couldn't help but smile when she was around. She had been Scarlett's maid for more years than either of them could count and Scarlett had grown to depend on her, not just for her day to day dressing but as a confidant as well. Jeje knew more of Scarlett's secrets than anyone.

“Jeje, you know how much you have meant to me, don't you?” Scarlett said as Jeje straightened the bed covers.

The small woman grinned. “I hope I've helped you, ma'am.”

“You have taken good care of me these past few years. I've left you a little something in my will.”

“Oh ma'am, I ain't never spected anything.”

“No, and that is why I've left you something. Not enough to retire on but a remembrance for your services.”

“Thank ya, ma'am.”

“Jeje, you know I am dying and please don't pretend you don't.”

Jeje chin began to quiver. “Yessum, I do.”

Scarlett smiled, she always preferred honesty, there had been too little of it in her life.

“Jeje, I want you to do me a favour. First off, I want you to open the window.”

Jeje looked worried. “But Miss, the cold air..”

“I've always hated the smell of a sickroom. I want to breathe clean air. Open the window, Jeje, please?'

Jeje reluctantly pushed aside the heavy drapes and opened one of the windows. Scarlett felt the cool air brush through the room, pushing away the stench of medicine and camphor. She breathed in deeply, smelling the sweet smell of rain.

“Thank you, now I want a strong cup of coffee with heavy cream and I want a snifter of brandy. Could you get them for me without my children knowing? They will just fuss it's against doctor's orders and it isn't good for me but at this stage of the game, what does it matter?”

This time Jeje didn't hesitate. “Of course, ma'am. I will make the coffee myself. Strong, just the way you used to take it. And I can manage to get the spirits too.”

“Ah Jeje, what would I do without you. Hurry up now.”

****************

Scarlett sipped the rich coffee and felt a rush of blood to her heart – how she loved coffee. It was much more strengthening than the insipid tea she had been forced to drink for the last few weeks. The brandy she did not bother to taste, it was the smell she wanted. She swirled the glass, releasing it's heavy scent and let it take her back to the past.

**************

Scarlett had encouraged Wade to reply to Rhett's letter. Rhett had been the closest thing Wade had ever had to a real father and she knew how much Wade had looked up to him. She also hoped that by way of their communication, Rhett would one day reply to one of her letters.

The weeks passed, the boys were about to finish their terms at school when her next crisis came – a letter from the school. It firmly stated that though Beau seemed like an intelligent young man, he would not be welcome back for the fall term.

“ **Due to the recent events, I am sure you understand the school's position. We are somewhat surprised you haven't replied to any of our previous communications but no doubt you had your reasons.”**

Scarlett was at a loss to understand what the letter meant but felt the sharp dig at her parenting of Beau. Beau was called in to explain himself and the letter.

Standing before her, the young boy kept his head down and scuffed the thick carpet with the toe of his shoe. Scarlett tried to speak to him but quickly became frustrated with his mumbling replies and evasions.

“Beau Wilkes, look me in the eye and explain yourself!”

The boy looked up and all Scarlett could see was a fierce anger in his eye.

“I don't have to, you're not my mother.” he said belligerently.

Scarlett was taken back. “Of course I'm not but I'm the closest thing you have to one. Now tell me, why did the school write me such a letter and what is this about previous communications?”

“I hate you, I hate you and Wade and Ella and that stupid school and all the stupid boys there. Leave me alone, I hate you.” he shouted before bursting into tears and running out of the room, slamming the door with a bang behind him.

Scarlett, infuriated, started to follow him after him, determined to find out what was upsetting him but something stopped her when she reached the door, a coolness blew over her forehead, and she gave a small gasp. Standing still for that brief moment, she realized the hopelessness of trying to talk to Beau when he was so upset.

Her thoughts settled and she sent for Wade to try and get to the bottom of it all.

Wade, however, seemed almost as unforthcoming as Beau had been and he too stood with his head down but instead of scuffing the rug, he kept clenching his hands into fists as Scarlett questioned him.

“Wade, I need to understand what is going on, what has been happening at school and what is this about communications?” Scarlett spoke quietly though she wanted to shake the truth out of him.

“I can't help if I don't know what I am dealing with, don't you understand ?”

Wade looked up, his face showed his obvious dilemma.

“ Answer me Wade.”

Looking down at his feet, Wade sensed his mother's determination and knew she wouldn't stop until she had at least part of the story. He slowly began telling Scarlett everything.

Beau, though always a popular boy at school, had become quiet recently, refusing to play with the other boys at recess and keeping to himself. Though Wade was not in the same class with him, he had heard Beau had back talked a teacher and been sent to the head master's office a few times where he had been given the strap and the head master had made him sit in the hall with a sign on his lap saying 'Incorrigible'.

The other boys, especially those that had never been as well liked as Beau and were always looking for someone weaker, had begun to tease him in the playground. They had made up a song -

'Beau, Beau where did his parents go? They rather die 'cause they hated him so.'”

“That is terrible!” Scarlett gasped.

“Yes, Mother. And they did worse too. They began tripping him and pushing him, trying to get him in trouble with the teachers. They wouldn't do it when I was near because I'm so much bigger than them and they knew I would stop them. Then Beau, well I guess he had enough when they stole the watch chain from him, he hit one of them but Mr. Stanfield saw it and sent him to the Head Master for another whipping.”

Ashley's watch chain with six dangling seals, it had been his father's before him. Scarlett well remembered the day Uncle Henry gave it to her when he told her John Wilkes had died. The chain had been attached to a heavy pocket watch but the watch itself had been in Ashley's hand when he burned to death and couldn't be freed from his grasp, only the chain which had been given to Beau as a remembrance of his father. Beau treasured it and it hadn't been out of his possession since he got it. “Why didn't anyone tell me?”

“They sent home letters with Beau to give to you but I guess he was too ashamed so he burnt them in the fire. I tried to get him to say something but he wouldn't, he kept saying he was a man now and he didn't want to bother you.”

“You should have told me, Wade.”

“He made me promise not to, Mother. He made me swear – we spat on it.”

Scarlett swore under her breath “And if he had made you swear not to tell he was going to jump off a cliff would you have kept quiet? Oh Wade, how could you be so foolish?”

Wade looked down at his feet again.

“Who was the boy that Beau hit?”

“Calvin Gary. His eye was black for almost ten days.” Wade said with almost a sense of pride for his cousin.

Scarlett nodded her head. “Good, I never liked that boy. He has no neck, just like his father.”

Scarlett recalled how Calvin's mother had made a big show of sweeping her skirts away when she had passed by Scarlett on the street last week. Scarlett had paid no mind at the time, her only thought had been the colour yellow of Dora Gary's dress was terribly unflattering to her washed out complexion.

Wade grinned back at her, feeling as if his mother was understanding everything. He was mistaken.

“Is there anything else you haven't told me?” Scarlett's green eyes bore down on Wade. He tentatively shook his head, wondering if Mother knew how Joe Whiting had made him smoke a cigar behind the sport shed. It had made him feel very sick and he swore he would never again believe anything Joe told him.

But Scarlett concerns lay with Beau and she would have been surprised to know Wade ever had the gumption to misbehave.

“Very well, Wade. Thank you for telling me now at least. If anything else happens, I want you to promise me you will tell me right away.”

“I promise Mother.”

“And Wade, be kind to Beau. He needs a big brother, I think.”

“I'll try, Mother. But he doesn't really want me around, he just seems to want to be left alone.”

“Go to him now – see if you can interest him in a game or something.” Scarlett said, dismissing Wade, as she tried to think of how much money it would cost her to get the school to take Beau back for the next term.

Wade hurried out of the room, thankful the interrogation was over and Mother was no wiser about the cigar business. Though come to think about it, it hadn't been all that bad and didn't Uncle Rhett always smoke cigars? Why, all gentlemen smoked cigars and drank whiskey. He had promised Auntie Melly he wouldn't touch spirits until he was twenty-one and he would keep his promise but she had never said anything about cigars - Wade wondered if Joe still had some of those cigars so he could try smoking again.

 

Scarlett sighed. Beau really needed a father, he needed a man to help him. Scarlett knew she didn't know how to even talk to him about this – Rhett would know what to do, what to say. Rhett had always known how to talk to children. She never had, children always seemed to go out of their way to annoy her and she had never had much patience with them. Other women were bad enough but children were worse.

She briefly considered writing to Rhett to ask him what to do, but then with another sigh, she thought she could hardly ask Rhett for help with Ashley's son. No, she would have to work this one out without Rhett.

 

After speaking with Uncle Henry and India, neither of which had much to offer, Scarlett sent the children off to Tara for the summer as planned. The boy's final term reports had been as different as chalk and cheese. Wade's were glowing with compliments on his hard work and quick mind. Beau's were primarily focused on his rude behaviour and poor attitude toward his school work.

Scarlett had written to Will, explaining the situation and asking if he might be able to help Beau.

The night before the children left, she went into Beau's room.

“And so my Beau,” she said in a false cheerful tone. “ Are you looking forward to your summer break?”

Beau just shrugged and kept his eyes focused on a small picture he was holding. Scarlett peered over his shoulder and saw it was a picture of Melly.

“You miss your mother, don't you?” Scarlett softly said. “So do I.”

She took the wood framed daguerreotype and gazed at the heart shaped face, the large eyes and gentle smile staring back at her.

“You know I still talk to her sometimes.”

Beau looked at her, surprised.

“Why, she can't hear you.”

“I like to think she can. I ask her for help and she always makes me feel better.”

Scarlett passed the picture back to Beau. “I talked to her last night.” she said nonchalantly.

“What did you say?”

“I told her how sorry I am. You see, I feel bad I failed her. She entrusted me with you but I haven't done a very good job of it.”

“Did it make you feel better?”

“Surprisingly, it did.” Scarlett started to neatly fold the clothes Beau had haphazardly thrown in his trunk, she kept her eyes down on her task but she could sense Beau looking at her. She never felt comfortable talking to children nor did she have any real maternal instinct but she had to try.

“ I know I am not your mother, Beau. I will never be as good as she, but I want what your mother wanted for you - to be a gentleman and to have a happy life.”

Beau stayed silent, watching her.

“I bet if you spoke to her, it might make you feel better too. Maybe you should try it.”

“Mother left me and then Father did too.” Beau said.

Scarlett looked at him, she felt his deep sadness and anger at the unfairness of loosing his parents and all the love and comfort he had known in his life.

“They are both watching over you still though.”

“Do you think they are angry?”

“They would never be angry at you. They love you. I'm sure they are very sad at how unhappy you are without them.”

They were silent as Scarlett finished packing the trunk. “There, that is ready now. No doubt you have a few last minute things you would like to put in it before tomorrow. You better get to sleep, we have to leave early for the train.”

Beau crawled into his bed and Scarlett tightly tucked in the coverings. She smiled down at him, wondering if she should kiss him goodnight. Melly would have. “Pleasant dreams.” she said as she tousled his blonde curls.

“Thank you Auntie. Good night.”

Scarlett blew out the light beside his bed and left the room. She stood silently outside the door - in a few minutes she heard the rustle of the bed clothes and then Beau's soft whispers to his mother.

 

**************

The summer had been long and hot, hotter than anyone could remember. Some of the older folk in town insisted it was all the tall buildings that had been springing up over Atlanta, they cut the cooling breezes from the North. “Why they were the only good thing that came from up North!” old men would say as they sat on the shaded porches of the store fronts.

For Scarlett, it was a lonely summer. She found she missed the children, their noise around the house and their chatter at the dinner table and it surprised her. The women of Atlanta were beginning to thaw towards her and would now speak to her on the street or in the store but she was still not invited to their parlours for tea or asked to attend meetings of whatever charity they were involved in, though India had asked her if would be interested in attending an evening of oration for The Widows and Orphans Fund in September. Scarlett would rather have watched paint dry than have to listen to Dr. Meade give one of his speeches and the McClure sisters recite “Ode to Our Glorious Dead” but she immediately offered to buy two tickets and to supply the refreshments for the evening.

Will sent her a letter, telling her Beau was settling in at Tara and was becoming a fine farmer. He was coming out of his shell and surprisingly had begun to remember his earlier years at Tara. Wade was determined to learn how to ride a horse and Mrs. Tarleton had taken him under her wing, declaring he had his Grandfather O'Hara hands with the reins. Ella was enjoying playing with her cousins and the girls had daily tea parties with Suellen presiding and Mammy assisting the little girls to learn their manners. It was acknowledged by all that Ella was the best finder of chicken eggs, after she had gotten over her initial fear of being pecked. “She speaks quietly to the hens and sings a little song to them, the tune is from Johnny Reb – she sings, “You laid all your eggs Mama hen, Mama hen – now tell me where they be, Mama hen, Mama hen.: My girls are getting a bit jealous of her as Sue has told them whoever finds the most eggs gets a sugar tit for reward.”

Another letter had come from Rhett addressed to Wade which she forwarded on to Tara but still nothing came for Scarlett. She continued writing to him but she had nothing much to say, her letters spoke mostly of the weather and tidbits of gossip she had picked up at the store. She wanted to spill out her feelings to him, she wanted to tell him how much she missed him and how wrong she had been. Often she would write long letters of love, quoting poetry from the book he had left behind but she would tear them up once she finished them. Never would she send them, not yet, not until...

Scarlett visited the lumber yard once a week but India had it in good hand. Scarlett began to spend hours at the store, checking over ledgers and doing stock taking almost weekly but still the days felt empty.

She insisted on the house been cleaned from top to bottom, her sharp eye spotting a cobweb in the highest corner of a ceiling. Silver, never used, was polished until it gleamed only to be put away in a dark cupboard again, rugs were beaten and the wood oiled, floors were waxed and windows sparkled. Only Rhett's room was left – Scarlett worried anything more than a light dusting would cause the room to lose his scent, the mixture of whiskey, cigars and his special shaving soap.

Nights were the worst for Scarlett. Wandering the empty and closed off rooms brought only sad memories of what had been her hopes. Ghosts seem to stand in the shadows watching her, whispering to her. They made her face her demons and live through her mistakes.

Her nightmares began again. Now she knew she was running through the mist toward Rhett but no matter how hard she ran, she could never touch him - he was always just out of reach. She would see him standing before her, he would look at her, his eyes blank and then he would tip his black hat to her and fade into the fog.

“Rhett, Rhett...” she would cry out.

Then she would hear a sad sigh and Rhett's deep voice say again and again, _“I wish I could care what you do or where you go but I can't.”*_

****************

The crush of carriages, cabs, wagons and carts backed up all the way to Pryor Street forcing Scarlett to step out from her own carriage in the middle of the road. She darted up onto the sidewalk and made her way towards Union Station carrying her leather valise. The train station was as crowded as the street, it was noisy and hot with people pushing in and out. Black porters, their long metal-wheeled carts laden with boxes and suitcases, tried to make their way through the crowds. Calls from vendors lined beside the tracks with their canvas awnings selling food and drinks added to the noise and birds flew frantically over head, trying to make their way to and from the nests in the station's alcoves.

 

Scarlett was running dreadfully late but luckily she had her ticket already so she didn't need to face the chaos of the inner station.

Heat rose from the dark pavement up Scarlett's skirts and people banged against her, all trying to get their destinations.

“Is this what Hell is like?” Scarlett briefly thought.

She pushed herself towards Track Two, disregarding the chaos around her, intent on getting to her train when she saw a tall, broad shouldered man making his way through the milling throngs.

“Rhett – Rhett...”

The man glanced around and made his way over to Scarlett.

“Rhett, I had no idea you were coming home.” Scarlett clasped his hand, wishing he would kiss her cheek at the very least.

“Hello Scarlett, you are looking well.” Rhett politely said.

“As are you, Rhett.” Scarlett lied. Though Rhett's colouring had lost it's grayness and his face was tanned, his eyes still carried a dead look. His somber black suit and the small black cravat against the bright white of his shirt looked out of place on such a warm summer day.

“Liar, I look like hell and you know it.” Rhett responded. Scarlett had the grace to blush and dimpled her mouth in a smile.

“Why are you at the depot? Are you going somewhere or are you meeting someone?” Rhett asked but his tone suggested no real interest in her reply.

“I'm off to Tara to bring the children back to Atlanta but I can easily put it off for a few days since you are here. ”

“No, don't. I had hoped we wouldn't run into each other. I'm not staying – I'll be taking the late train back.”

“Back where, Rhett?”

“To Charleston.”

'All aboard for Jonesboro, Hampton, Griffin, Barnesville, Forsythe and Macon.” called the conductor. “All passengers need to board now.”

“There's your train Scarlett. You better go.”

“But Rhett..”

“Go, Scarlett. I'm late also.”

With a tip of his hat, Rhett joined the flowing crowd exiting the depot.

 

***************

Scarlett ran over Rhett's words, his demeanour towards her, his eyes. Why had he come to Atlanta if not to see her or the children? She grasped on the little information he had given - he was there for only that day, he was living back in Charleston and hardest of all, he had hoped he wouldn't see her. Why? Did he hate her so much? Was she once again chasing after a dream that would never come true? She forced herself to put the encounter with Rhett out of her mind. As always, he was still a mystery to her.

 

The two weeks Scarlett spent at Tara went quickly. She walked the fields with Will, happy with the cotton crop and the new innovations. The chemical fertilizer they had used was paying off and the turpentine workers in the old pines were bringing in extra money. The sorghum crop had already been harvested and the syrup had brought in a good profit.

In the early mornings before it got too hot, she and Suellen worked in the kitchen, teaching the girls as their mother had taught them, how to put up preserves of jams, vegetables, fruit, pickles with Mammy telling them how they were doing it wrong. Scarlett had brought boxes of mason jars down with her and Mammy was suspicious of them. She had only known of stoneware jugs sealed with wax and wire for storing food and she doubted that these glass jars would keep anything for longer than a day.

She ran her arthritic fingers over the metal bands. “No better than spun sugar.” she humphed.

“Don't be such an old stick in the mud, Mammy. These are scientifically made to keep food. And isn't it better to see what is in a jar before you open it? How many times did Cook open what she thought were peaches and they turned out to be beets?”

Mammy smiled, “You neber like' beets, didja my lamb.”

“No and it was all your fault – you told me they tasted just like strawberries.”

Mammy laughed and she continued laughing each time one of the jars would make a popping sound as the vacuum sealed the jars.

The pantry shelves were soon filled with Tara's produce – jars of apple butter, sweet peaches, green beans and baby peas. There were pickles and relishes, tomato catchup, and jams of every berry. Never again would anyone be hungry at Tara.

Both Beau and Wade were brown as butternuts from the sun and all the children had pink cheeks and were filled with energy. The boys delighted in playing tricks on the girls, putting frogs under their pillows and hiding in the high cedars so that they could throw peanuts at them. Little Billy, Sue's youngest, was out of his dresses now and tried desperately to keep up with the older boys who included him in their pranks on the girls. They got their comeuppance though. Scarlett and Suellen banded together with the girls to give the older boys a taste of their own medicine. After the boys had gone to bed, the ladies silently slipped in their room and took their trousers, then they sewed the legs shut. The next morning, the girls banged loudly on the door and screamed for the boys to come right away. Hearing the bangs and struggling as the boys tried to put their pants on and seeing their sheepish faces when they opened the door made the girls roll on the floor with laughter.

Beau was more like his old self, he was happy again which pleased Scarlett, Tara had worked her magic on him, just as it always did with her.

What didn't please her was when he came to her the day before they were to return to Atlanta.

“Auntie, can I talk to you?” Beau looked nervous.

“Beau have you started packing yet? I saw one of your shoes by the kitchen door.”

“Auntie, I don't want to go back.”

“What are you talking about, Beau?” Scarlett said, her mind was on the million little things she wanted to tell Will to do and how she wanted to speak to Mammy about Ella's ever-tangled hair and if Suellen had any thoughts about what to buy Careen for her upcoming birthday.

“Go back where?” she said as she scribbled down notes for Will.

“Go back to Atlanta.”

“Don't be silly Beau, we live in Atlanta, that's where your school is, where your friends are. Really Beau, stop fussing me right now.”

“He doesn't want to go back, Scarlett.” Will stood behind Beau.

“Oh Will, I'm glad you're here, I wanted to ask you about that field by the old pasture, is there anything that will grow in such rocky soil?”

“Maybe you should listen to Beau, Scarlett, it's kinda important to him.”

Scarlett sighed, “Fine Beau – what is this about not going back home?”

“ I don't want to go to that school – I want to stay here with Uncle Will and Auntie Sue.”

“Maybe they don't want you to stay.”

“Me and Sue talked it over and he's welcome here.” Wade offered.

Scarlett shot daggers with her eyes at Will. He was not making things any easier.

“What about your schooling? I promised your Mother that you would go to good schools.”

“Mr. Tarleton offered to tutor him.” Will said.

“Really Will, is it Beau asking or you?”

Will gave his slow smile. “Well, I am always happy to have another pair of hands here so I thought I might just put in my two cents.”

Beau spoke up. “Auntie, I really do want to stay here. I'm don't like school so much anymore and I feel kinda happier here at Tara.”

“But you need schooling.” Scarlett reiterated.

“Mr. Tarleton said he would tutor me every afternoon and then I could help Uncle Will every morning.”

Scarlett looked at Beau, he had grown over the summer. She could see how handsome a man he was going to be one day. But he had to be raised as a gentleman. Though Will was a good man, he was a cracker. What did he know of how gentlemen acted? Beau would never get into Harvard if he was stuck out here in Clayton County.

“I spoke to Mr. Tarleton – he is very happy to teach little Beau.' Will said.

“Beau go and check that Wade is packed.”

“But...”

“Now Beau. The grown ups need to talk.” Scarlett's tone had a sharp edge.

Beau looked at Will who gave a shrug. “Best do what she says, Beau.”

Scarlett waited until Beau had left before turning on Will.

“How dare you, Will Benteen!”

Will sat down on the old battered couch in the office and pulled out his knife. He slowly began whittling on a piece of kindling.

“Don't get what has riled you, Scarlett.” he said.

“Beau can't stay buried out here in Tara. He needs to go to a proper school if he is go to Harvard and I would appreciate you not going behind my back and filling his head with silliness of Mr. Tarleton tutoring him, why none of his children even knew how to spell, except Boyd.”

“Not so silly. Mr. Tarleton is a learned man, he reads a lot of books and talks well and he is a quick as you with doing sums. Besides - maybe Beau doesn't want to go to Harvard.”

“What he wants doesn't matter. I promised Melly he would go to Harvard and go to Europe afterwards for the proper tour.”

“Have you ever asked him if he wants to go?”

“Why should I? He's a little boy he doesn't know what he wants.”

“He does, you know.” Will said. “He knows very well what he wants to do with his life.”

“Would you please stop getting chips of wood all over the carpet!”

“I 'spect a man should be allowed to do what he wants in his own home.” Will looked her square in the eye though his pale eyes stayed mild.

“ I know this is your home, you don't need to remind me. But damn it Will, Beau is my nephew and I have been left in charge of him.”

“Scarlett, I guess you jest don't know little boys.”  
“Oh and you are an expert?” Scarlett said with a bite to her tone.

“Guess so, I was one once and I have an idea of what is going on with Beau.” Will kept on with his whittling. “I lost my ma when I was five and then my pa when I was thirteen. I had always planned on going West and making my fortune but when Pa died I had to stay on the farm.”  
“Why?”

“I had a little sister, I couldn't leave her to be brought up by others. So I stayed and when she was grown, she married a nice man and they moved to Texas. I could have gone then I suppose but the farm was doing well and I had two slaves by then, so I began to settle - I put away my childhood dreams though I still liked to read about the West, the stories about the Indians and the chance of striking it rich on a gold mine. When the war came, I wanted to see the elephant and I joined up thinking it would be over in a year. As you know it wasn't, by the end I had lost a leg and my farm. Not sure which I miss most.”

“You could have gone West after it ended. Why did you stay here at Tara?”

“I fell in love. You people were good to me and I found I could help you. I love Tara as much as anything in life. I want to see how close we can get her back to how she must have been.”

They sat silently together.

“Let Beau follow his own path. He is happy here for now, Scarlett. Maybe one day, he'll want to go back to Atlanta but if you make him go back there now he'll dig in his heels and he'll be no good for anything.”

It was true, if she forced him back to Atlanta, all the good that Tara had done for him would be lost and he would once again become sullen and sad. Scarlett sighed and then smiled at Will. “How did you get so wise, Will Benteen?”

Will lazily smiled back. “I think alfalfa may grow in that field. We'll try it this spring.”

 

***************

Scarlett returned home to Atlanta with Wade and Ella. She had left Beau behind in Tara with misgivings but with a stern warning. “I will be writing Mr. Tarleton weekly, Beau Wilkes, and I expect good reports on your academics. If you are not up to scratch you will be on the next train to Atlanta, do you hear me?”  
Beau had given a yip of joy and promised to work hard on his schooling.

“Welcome home Miz Scarlett. Didja hab a nice holiday?  
“Thank-you Pork, yes we did.”  
“Dey all well at Tara?”

“Very well. How is everything here, is there any news?”  
“No'um.”  
“Fine. Tell Cook to expect a crate of preserves I brought back from Tara, the depot will be sending it along with our luggage. Is Lou upstairs?”

“Yessum, she waitin' for ya.”  
“ I'm going to wash the travel dust off and then I want a pot of coffee in the library. You can put all the mail on my desk, Pork.”

Scarlett changed out of her deep red silk travelling suit and into a loose fitting tea gown of pale green batiste, eschewing her corset. Atlanta was still baking in the late August heat and Scarlett wanted comfort more than fashion, besides no one was likely to call.

Sitting in the quiet library with the long windows wide open and the small breath of breeze floating in, Scarlett sipped her coffee as she flipped through the small stack of mail. There nothing of much interest, a bill from the butchers, a circular from a new millinery shop , a letter from Aunt Pauline and the tickets for the upcoming Evening of Oration with a note from India reminding Scarlett of her promise to provide the refreshments. At the bottom of the pile was an envelope addressed by a rough hand, the address line was uneven and her name, Mrs. Butler, had been spelled Mrs. Burtler. Scarlett slit open the cheap envelope and a newspaper clipping fell out.

 

Brendan Harris of Harrisburg, Pa will be tried for the murder of Miss Belle Watling in her establishment on Collins Street. It is reported Miss Watling had attempted to break up a fight between Mr. Harris and Mr. Alex Tredger of Alachua,Fla when she was stabbed by Mr. Harris on August 3rd. Her funeral was held at her residence with many in attendance. Captain R. Butler gave the eulogy and was one of the pall bearers. Her internment site was not released. Mr. Harris' trial is expected to begin tomorrow. All jurors will please report to the courthouse at 8:30 am.

 

Blood pounded in Scarlett's head as she violently ripped the clipping into small pieces. “That bastard!” she thought as she threw the bits on the floor.

“Bastard.” she repeated.

He had come back to Atlanta for the burial of his trash yet for Melly, the lady he had revered, he hadn't bothered to stay for even the viewing.

Belle Watling... the woman whom Scarlett had most despised. Scarlett remembered how Rhett had often compared her to his whore. Belle was the better of them, he had told her, though they were both great business women, she had the kind heart. He had always turned to her, she had been able to soothe him, she was the one he went to after the night he had carried her up the stairs and it was she who he had turned to when Bonnie had died.

It had been hard enough to have been constantly compared to Melly but to be compared to a whore and found wanting had been unbearable.

Scarlett felt bile rising up in her throat. She remembered how she had once been thankful for Belle, keeping Rhett when he was in his murderous rages. What kind of wife had she been to have been happier that her husband went to a whore rather than be with her ?

Belle Watling - the last time Scarlett had seen her, the blowzy old slut had given her a look, not of hate but worse still, of pity. She had known all of Scarlett's secrets and felt sorry for her.

Nothing Rhett had done before, nothing compared to this insult. He had come for his whore and had hoped he wouldn't see his wife.

How the town must be laughing at her. They all would know. She could hear them - “That's what she gets for being so high and mighty.” “She deserves all she gets, marrying such a man.” “What kind of woman must she be that her husband would go to such a creature.”

Scarlett paced the room, wishing Rhett was there so she could scratch his eyes out, tear at him, make him feel the hurt she felt.

She had thought she loved him - she had loved him. How could she love someone so despicable?

All her silly fantasies crumbled. Not a day had gone by without her thinking of him. She had made plans of what she would say to him next time he came home, little stories she would tell, she would be bright and cheerful – she would tell him why she loved him and how she had first wondered if she loved him during the War. She spent nights working out a menu of his favourite foods for a homecoming dinner, debating whether chocolate cake or sweet potato pie would bring a smile to him.

She saw the humidor that she had kept stocked with his favourite cigars, the liquor cabinet that she had ensured was filled with his brand of bourbon, scotch and brandy. The little things she had done with him in mind.

She had hoped that by giving him time to heal, he would come to home to her. Believed he would one day realize how much she loved him and remember how he had once loved her. The guilt she had carried for the last year had been bearable only with the thought that one day he would believe she loved him. Now all was lost. He didn't love her and would never love her again.

Scarlett stepped out the tall window on to the patio, wishing she could run away. She wanted to breathe and stop the hurt within her but her lungs wouldn't let her and her heart was beating frantically.

She walked down the stairs to the garden, her mind swirled with the old images and new dreams she had carried this past year. How she would ever be able to accept what life had dealt her now?

Loud barking made her jump and Lola bounded over from the far garden. Wade's enormous dog was not used to people, she was left alone most of the day and only brought in at night by Pork. She believed her job was to watch over the house and protect all those in it. The gardener would sometimes throw a stick for her to fetch but mostly she was left by herself. She trotted over to Scarlett's side and gave her a sniff. Somehow, with an animal instinct, she knew that Scarlett needed company and pushed her nose against Scarlett's hand.

Scarlett patted the dog's broad head and walked on, Lola stayed close by her side.

He had told her that he was finished with her, that her love had come too late and he had no interest in broken pieces or risking his heart again. Scarlett hadn't believed him, she couldn't believe that his love had worn out. If you loved someone, really loved someone how could stop loving them? Scarlett had convinced herself that he just needed time and then he would come home to her. She had known that if she chased him he would run, so she had been patient, something she had never done in her life. But she had felt sure that he would come back.

He is a coward, Scarlett thought. And it is him that is throwing away happiness. He had never given her a chance to show him how much she loved him. He preferred to run away from her.

Scarlett gasped – This is almost what she had said to Ashley many long years ago in the library of Twelve Oaks. Had she simply transferred her make believe love of Ashley to Rhett? No, no she had loved Rhett – for longer than she had known and too late she had realized how much she loved him but now...

A flash of white caught her eye, a newspaper fluttered on a holly bush, snagged in the branches. With a hiss of annoyance, Scarlett bent over and pulled it free. Another page was under the bush and Scarlett had to kneel down to reach it. Under the paper was a thin stem of blackberry, the bane of any Georgian garden - Scarlett pulled at it and the little thorns bit into her soft hands. The sharp pain triggered her and she began to weep.

Lola pushed beside Scarlett and lay her large paw on her skirt, trying to comfort Scarlett as she cried, kneeling in the dirt.

After a time, Scarlett straightened her back and roughly wiped the tears away. She patted the big dog and then heedless of the pain, with a strong yank, Scarlett pulled the blackberry bramble out by it's root.

 

**The characters are dropping like flies in this story, ha ha. Hope you enjoyed it nevertheless.**

 


	5. 5

_Many many thanks to all who have kudoed and commented on this story. You are very kind. I am always so pleasantly surprised when I get a notice that someone has thought well enough about it to give me a like. My apologies for taking so long to actually post this update, it hasn't been because I haven't worked on it as you will see by it's length. For those who like to read something short and sweet, this won't be for you. It is long, I hope not too long and I really hope not too dull. Warning, it hasn't been betaed by anyone so I have no doubt there will be mistakes. (Oh gee, this is sounding better and better, just what a girl wants to read!)_

 

 

Absence Chapter 5

[They say it's better to bury your sadness in a graveyard or garden that waits for the spring to wake from its sleep and burst into green.](http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/c/conorobers393823.html?src=t_garden)

[ **Conor Oberst** ](http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/c/conor_oberst.html)

 

A heaviness on her chest woke Scarlett from her light sleep. Her first thought was Cat must be lying on her but the puss was curled on the pillow beside her.

The weight pressed down on her, pushing out small puffs of air and refusing to allow new ones to enter without a struggle.

Scarlett forced down her panic and concentrated on taking deep breaths but her lungs wouldn't fill. She lay gasping, hearing the gurgling of fluid in her lungs. The dying man's rattle.

Pushing herself higher on her pillows, she coughed hard and then coughed again. The thick phlegm shifted and she spat the revolting mass into a linen towel. She again attempted to fill her lungs with air – it was better but not by much.

Death was beginning to take His hold on her and He wasn't going to make it easy. He was going to make her serve harsh penance for past sins. She had fought Him many times before, railed against his cruelty and now He was making her pay the piper.

She still had enough strength to battle Him for a while longer and she wouldn't go down without a fight, as He will knew. But she was tiring of the battle - she felt she was nearing her surrender to Him.

Scarlett painfully shifted on to her side, trying to find comfort for the pain across her back. She smiled at Cat, her dainty paws covering her eyes as if to say it is all too much. Scarlett gently stroked the silky fur, eliciting a soft purr and then Cat sat up, seemingly insulted by Scarlett's pats and moved to the foot of the bed.

The delicate painted porcelain clock on the mantle began to sweetly chime three. Jeje, asleep in the old slipper chair from Aunt Pitty's parlour, snorted once and then slept on.

Scarlett listened to the quiet – small sounds - the clock ticking, the trees outside rustling with the wind, the drip of rain water in the tin gutters.

A peony from the hothouse bouquet that Phillip had brought, dropped it's petals on the dresser - it too had tired of life.

A peony, Mrs. Butler's red peony......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scarlett rose up from dirt and looked over the garden. It was all a dull green - no flowers bloomed, the shrubs were formal and exact in their place, the trees staid and as somber as Dr. Mead but it had no life.

Lola trotted up, happy to have a new companion outside, and presented Scarlett with a stick. Scarlett looked down at the big dog, her large brown eyes looking hopeful, a long string of drool dripping down from her mouth.

“Do you want to play Lola, do you want the stick?” Scarlett teased the dog with the long twig. “Alright girl - Fetch Lola!” She threw the stick and laughed as she watched the large dog gallop after it. Lola skidded on the dry grass, her back end going the opposite way from her front, before running back to Scarlett, tossing up the stick in the air and then bowing down before her, presenting it at Scarlett's feet. The ungainly dog's large tail swept back and forth as she waited for another game of fetch. Scarlett threw the stick again and it flew into a heap of garden refuse. Lola chased after it, madly digging, spewing grass clippings and leaves out behind her.

Scarlett looked over the staid yard and her mind began to envision a beautiful garden with roses flowering and trees in bloom showering sweet smelling blossoms down on soft green grass. A garden such as her mother had kept at Tara.

Lola, proud as punch with conquering the wild stick, trotted back again to Scarlett and laid the stick at her feet. “We'll play another time Lola.” Scarlett said, patting the dog's rough fur, pulling out a few leaves that had tangled in the dog's floppy ears.

With a renewed energy, Scarlett walked back into the house. She saw, upon entering, the torn bits of paper she had scattered on the desk and meticulously picked up each tiny piece and put them in the waste paper basket.

“I'll not think about it now, I won't think about it ever again. Rhett can rot in hell as far as I'm concerned.” Scarlett willed herself. “I will not spend my life chasing after another dream.”

She sat at the broad desk and pulled out a tablet of paper from the top drawer. She dipped the pen in the black ink and began sketching out her garden.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the inhabitants of the grand house on Peachtree Street that anonymous note swept in a new order.

Scarlett once again demanded changes. The cigars that had been devotedly kept in the ebony humidor, were given to Pork. The whiskeys that Rhett had always drunk were locked away in the cellar. Rhett's clothes, boots, shoes, handkerchiefs etc. Were boxed up, precisely labeled and moved to the attic. Scarlett briefly debated giving them all to the needy before realizing it would only fuel more gossip about her marriage and her long absent husband. The gold cigar case she had given him for Christmas last year was sent to the bank along with the assorted cuff links and shirt studs he had left behind. If he wanted any of it, she would send it to his mother's.

Rhett's room became a new sitting room for Scarlett - all masculinity was erased. The dark wood trims were painted cream, the burgundy walls were now a soft spring green and embellished with delicate vines of flowers. Comfortable couches and deep chairs welcomed those to sit. The tables and surfaces were scattered with silver framed daguerreotypes and miniatures of those loved and now lost. Over the mantle, the battle scarred painting of Grandma Robillard hung - Scarlett grew strength from it every time she looked at it. She had been married three times, just like Scarlett and had never let any man control her. She had died as free as when she was born. Scarlett wondered if she had ever loved anyone other than herself.

“Well, I have loved and little did it get me.” Scarlett mused. “Nothing but heartache. And what use is that?”

In the evenings after dinner, Scarlett and the children would sit in this room. It was more comfortable than the formal rooms downstairs. Wade would do his school work at the table by the window while Scarlett and Ella would play cards or work at jigsaw puzzles before the fire. Sometimes they would all play cards - Scarlett teaching them how to keep their faces mute when they had a good hand, a trick Rhett had taught her. It was a warm welcoming room now and the three could feel at ease here.

Ella once asked, “Where will Uncle Rhett sleep when he comes home, Mama?'

Scarlett was startled by the question. Wade looked up from his work, also waiting for her reply. She fiddled with a jigsaw piece, trying to think of what to say.

Realizing this, Wade said, “What a silly question Ella. Have you counted how many rooms we have in this house? Uncle Rhett can pick which ever one he wants.”

“Oh he can't have mine though Wade. I love it too much.”

“Well he can have mine then and I will live in the attic with the ghosts.”

“Mama, is there really ghosts in the attic.” Ella asked,

“Only the ones that watch over us to keep us safe.” Scarlett answered. She glanced at Wade, thankful for his quick mind. He ignored her and turned back to his work.

 

Scarlett cleansed the house of all memory of Rhett, though not her own memory. No matter how she fought against the thoughts of him, they still filtered, unbidden, into her mind and into her dreams. As Rhett had said the night Melly had died, it was her misfortune to love him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was late afternoon, the sun already low in the sky as Scarlett drove her trap towards home. She and India had been out to the mill to see the new steam powered saw installed. Though it had been very expensive, it would shorten their milling time and increase the output by fifty percent. All the workers had gathered round and Bob, the lead hand, had started the saw up. It had stuttered and coughed and then with a loud roar the engine came to full power. With a shrill whine it cut through an enormous log, spewing fine wood dust over the crowd. A great cheer rang out and the men all clapped hands and slapped Bob on the shoulder.

Both Scarlett and India were very pleased with how well it worked. “Like a hot knife through butter.” India remarked.

The mills were galvanized now. Scarlett was able to bid fairer prices and had developed contracts with some of the bigger builders to exclusively supply all their lumber. The workman were staying and had none of the sullen looks of those before - they were as invested in the mill as Scarlett. The cabins were filled with families - Scarlett noticed well tended vegetable gardens in front of each small house, pretty patterned curtains in the windows and geraniums blooming in coffee tins. Two of the women had started a school for the many children in one of the out buildings with desks made from off cut pine and slates and writing tablets donated by Scarlett. She was cheered over the changes to her mills.

As they drove along companionably on the smooth dirt road, India and Scarlett discussed how best to promote their expanding production.

India's mind was as quick as Scarlett's and they easily devised a plan – with the new saw they could readily reduce production time in half and also cut wood to size. They would be able to undercut the other mills in prices - none of them would have a chance to compete with them.

Scarlett said, “Well, India, if I haven't said it before, I'll say it now – you are a good business woman and I am glad you are working for me and not one of my competitors.”

“I never knew why you always seemed so hell bent on these mills Scarlett but I do now. I enjoy having work to do. It is more interesting than checking Aunt Pitty's swoon bottle or counting the sheets.” India replied.

They drove along the dirt road, through the tall gray forest of old oak trees, dead and dying. No birds sang here, all sound was muted but for the horses hooves and the whirr of the trap's wheels. Scarlett geed up the horse – she hated this part of the drive, it still brought a shiver down her spine. They passed what had been Shantytown. It had been burned out last year, to most of Atlanta's satisfaction. No official reason was given for the fire, though the smell of kerosene had been strong some said and the smell of shady dealings between the politicians and the Guard had been just as strong.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish.” Scarlett mumbled under her breath.

“Did you say something Scarlett?” India asked.

“Just thinking out loud. But I do need to speak to you about something, India– it's about Beau.” She went on to explain her decision to allow Beau to stay on at Tara.

As Scarlett had expected, India did not take the news well. Sharp words were exchanged between the two ladies before Scarlett was finally able to use the same logic Will had used on her.

“He would have fought against it tooth and nail, India and he would been miserable here in Atlanta, you know it's true. God knows that boy has suffered enough and if staying at Tara will help him, then I think we need to let him be. I will be getting his academic progress every week and I will, of course, share them with you and Uncle Henry.”

India was slightly mollified, knowing that Mr. Tarleton was a learned man. At least her nephew would be taught by a gentleman and not some Cracker.

As the trap pulled up at Aunt Pitty's gate, India said, “I'm sure you think it is best, Scarlett. I will save any further comments until I read Beau's progress reports.”

Scarlett laughed, “I would expect no less from you, India.”

India smiled wryly. “Will you be coming to the tea tomorrow?”

“I thought I might. Hopefully I won't be tarred and feathered for daring to show up at such an esteemed affair.”

“Well, I believe the ladies are out of feathers and the tar is cold now.” India replied dryly. “Good day, Scarlett.”

India stepped down from the carriage and walked her usual stiff necked way into the house.

Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief - she was glad things had gone so well, much better than she had hoped. India, for all her past faults and though she would never be called a friend, was at least an ally for Scarlett and for this she was thankful.

Driving by Mrs. Elsing's house, Scarlett abruptly reined in the horses. She had passed this house a thousand times over her years in Atlanta yet something caught her eye for the first time. There was beauty here.

The top story of the house had been bombed during the burning of Atlanta and Scarlett remembered how odd the house had seemed when she had first returned back to Atlanta. It had looked like a giant had sat upon it, stunting it, but now the house had a certain grace.

Scarlett climbed down from the trap and walked down the path, into the garden.

Mrs. Elsing had trained her honeysuckle to climb higher and the vines had softened the hardness of the flattened roof. Bushes of roses gamboled around and an old wisteria twisted over the front porch. Everywhere Scarlett looked flowers bloomed and scented the air.

Scarlett took it all in greedily. This is what she wanted of her garden. A place of softness and beauty but alive.

“Hello Scarlett.” Mrs. Elsing was sitting in one of the round backed wicker chairs on the porch, fanning herself with a dried palmetto leaf .“Is there something you want?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Elsing, how are you?” Scarlett said. “I was just looking at your garden.”

Mrs. Elsing looked suspiciously at Scarlett. “What about my garden?”

“It is beautiful!” Scarlett replied. “So beautiful....”

“Yes it is - though the bind weed is becoming troublesome again.”Mrs Elsing replied with her languid drawl as she moved down the stairs to Scarlett. “I spoke to your Aunt Pitty recently and she told me that the children had returned home from Tara.”

“Yes, they are home again. Tell me, Mrs. Elsing, what kind of rose is that pink one?”

“It's named Lady's Blush. I read in the paper recently that Captain Butler was here in Atlanta.” Mrs Elsing's nose twitched with excitement at getting the news.

Scarlett faltered. Damn Rhett, he told her he would come back to Atlanta to keep down the gossip but instead he managed to inflame it.

Scarlett decided to face the challenge head on rather than make up a story. “Yes he was here. An old friend passed away and he came to pay his respects.” Scarlett almost choked on the words.

Before Mrs. Elsing could compose her next question, Scarlett said, “Mrs Elsing, your honeysuckle is so pretty. I probably shouldn't say this but Mrs Merriwether was telling me how her honeysuckle was the sweetest in all Atlanta but I'm not sure she's right.” She bent down to breathe in the soft perfume of the flowers.

Scarlett had said the perfect thing to stave off anymore of Mrs. Elsing's interrogation. Mrs. Elsing and Mrs. Merriwether had a long standing competition for the most beautiful garden, each persistently entering the summer fair with their champion roses. The winner changed back and forth each year, which the judge, Mr. Whiting, deemed the safest way of making peace for himself.

“Phssh!” Mrs. Elsing hissed, her back obviously up. She slightly sugared her vinegary reply “Well I suppose Dolly's honeysuckle does have that rather cheap perfume and garish coloured blossoms if you prefer that sort.”

“Oh but I don't! I much prefer the more delicate scent of yours.” Scarlett said. She added “It reminds me of my mother somehow.” Scarlett bent her head down and wiped an imaginary tear from her eye. Mrs. Elsing's grace welled up, fully taken in by Scarlett.

“Of course it would!” Mrs. Elsing said, patting Scarlett's arm. “Dear Ellen.”

“Mrs. Elsing, would it be asking too much for you to give me a cutting of your honeysuckle? I know it sounds foolish, but it would mean so much to me to have something so beautiful in my own garden, such as it is.”

“Why Scarlett, when did you become interested in gardening?”

“Just recently actually,” Scarlett answered honestly. “It brings back life before The War – the happy times.”

Mrs. Elsing softened slightly. “Of course I will give you a cutting. Maybe you would like some of my phlox seeds as well. And then you must look at my calla lilies, though of course they have finished their show for the year.”

Mrs. Elsing listed off other plants and flowers, offering many of them as she led the way through her garden and Scarlett followed happily behind her saying yes to every suggestion.

Mrs. Elsing stood beside the carriage as Scarlett gathered up the reins.

“I will cut them tomorrow morning before it gets too hot and send them to you, Scarlett.”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Elsing, you are kind to me. Really, I can't thank you enough.”

“Remember, you will kill a plant faster by over watering than under.”

“I will, I promise.” Scarlett said as she geed up the horse, smiling broadly as they made their way home. Scarlett's charm and old ways of flattery had worked as well on Mrs. Elsing as it had with the beaux of her youth.

And in the following days, her charm would work with Mrs. Merriweather, Mrs. Allan, Mrs. Allison and Mrs. Whiting when Scarlett visited them each and bewitched them with glowing compliments on their roses, jasmine vines, crepe myrtle and buckeyes. She came armed with a small note pad and her silver pencil to write down each lady's instructions on sun, water, area of planting, time of planting. Each of the ladies vied to send Scarlett cuttings and seeds from their most precious plants with long letters of instructions of where they should be planted and how they needed to be cared.

July, Scarlett's gardener, was not the least bit happy with the donations nor Scarlett's demands for him to work.

“ Why you want dees flowers Missus, you kant eat them. Hows 'bout we jes put in some more green beans and yams? Dey'll feed ya, leas ways.”

“Feed your ever growing family”, Scarlett thought. She had long known that most of the produce from her kitchen garden went in July's sack at the end of the day and she didn't care much but she wanted a garden – a lady's garden – and she was determined to have it.

Facing July's obstinacy against planting flowers, Scarlett reached out to all she met – did anyone have a man that knew gardens, knew flowers? The ladies were reluctant to give up their own yardmen to her and kept quiet but one day a young man came to the back door and asked for the lady who wanted a garden man.

Scarlett had him brought to her study. She looked him up and down - he was young, he looked about twenty. His broad shoulders were obviously used to hard work and he stood politely in front of her, holding his wide brimmed hat in his hand. His eyes were proud and he had no subservience in his demeanor.

“Ma'am, my name is Michael Daniel. I was told you were looking for someone to help you with your garden.”

“Yes, I am. What are your qualifications? Where do you come from? Have you worked a garden before?” Scarlett peppered him with questions.

The man calmly answered each of them – he had come from Lower Virginia originally but during the early days of the War he had escaped North with his father, a blacksmith. They had settled in New York state where he had learned about farming and then he had been hired on to work in New York on it's new citypark. There he worked beside Mr. Ignaz Pilat, who had taught him the importance of soil and manure to nurture the garden. Mr. Olmstead, the original planner of the the city's park, showed him how a garden should flow from one area to another, how trees, flowers, shrubs needed to compliment one another and none should stand out from the other.

“Why did you leave New York and come to Georgia?” Scarlett asked.

The man looked her squarely in the eye and answered. “The man who owned us, my family, sold my mother and my sister when my father and I escaped. He first of all tried to starve them, to get them to tell where we had gone and when that didn't work he threatened them with whipping. They still wouldn't say where we had gone but they didn't know anyway. He knew he wouldn't get much for them if they had lash scars so he sold them South to prevent them running after us.”

Scarlett bowed her head.

The man continued on “When I had saved a bit of money, I tried to find them. They had been sold to a plantation on St. Simon's Island and were forced to work the fields even though they had been trained as house servants.”

“Did you find your mother and sister?” Scarlett asked.

“No - my mother had died from low county fever and my sister was gone, no one knew where. She had been carried off by some Yankee soldier from what I was told. I had spent all of my savings trying to find them so I had to get work here and Atlanta was the biggest city that needed my skills. I have references from Mrs. Miller and from Mrs. Allen.” He passed over two envelopes to Scarlett, who quickly glanced over the letters, reading the glowing praises.

“Please come with me and look at my garden.” Scarlett said and led the man outside. He walked over the entire area, lightly touching a leaf on a tree, bending to scrape at the soil, rubbing it between his fingers and smelling it.

“What do want of your garden?” he said.

Scarlett answered plainly. “I want it to be a place of beauty and of peace. I want to smell fragrance and see life.”

He nodded and looked across the yard. After a moment he turned his face to Scarlett.

“I can help you.” he said. “ I expect to be paid fifteen dollars a fortnight. I won't work on Sundays nor ever other Monday. And I will eat lunch in your kitchen.”

Scarlett was surprised at his forwardness. “Fifteen dollars! I will pay you seven dollars a week. You can eat lunch outside. You can have Sundays off, not Mondays.”

“Then you can find yourself another man. Good day ma'am.” He tipped his hat to her and started to walk away.

He was almost at the gate when Scarlett said.“No wait – fine, ten dollars a week to begin with, I will increase it to fifteen if I find you work is worth it. You can have Sundays and every other Monday off and lunch in the kitchen. But you will start at eight and work until five, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Good. How soon can you start?”

“I will start in two weeks, I need to give notice to Mrs. Moore.”

“Not until then? I will pay you an extra ten dollars if you start tomorrow.”

“No ma'am. I need to give Mrs. Moore two weeks notice and that is what I will do.”

Scarlett was piqued at him but tried with good grace to accept his terms. “Well then, so be it. I will see you two weeks today Michael.”

The man looked at her. “Yes, two weeks today, Scarlett.”

Scarlett was shocked at the man's effrontery. “My name is Mrs. Butler!” she said coldly.

“And mine is Mr. Daniel.” His eyes were cool and detached but they had a snap of underlining resentment.

Scarlett had half a mind to tell him to clear off but she needed a man that knew gardens and she felt sure this man did. He was the one that would transform her patch of dullness to a place of colour and vibrance.

“I look forward to working with you, Mr. Daniel.” Scarlett said with a semblance of grace.

“And I with you, Mrs. Butler.” he said.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Scarlett threw herself into her garden. She followed behind Mr. Daniels, badgering him with questions and drinking up all his knowledge. Early mornings, when only the day servants and milk man were on the street, Scarlett would be out in the front of her house, digging in the dirt. It wasn't done for a lady to be found working her own soil but Scarlett enjoyed it. She loved the smell of the rich earth and the satisfaction of pulling a deep rooted dandelion. On the days when the weather was cool and wet, Scarlett would be found pouring over seed and bulb catalogues in her office, jotting down notes and ideas to discuss with Mr. Daniel.

Mr. Daniel worked his magic with the garden. New beds were laid out that curved around trees and along the fence line. Large loads of rich, black soil were delivered along with mountains of rotted manure and spread over the beds.

He taught Scarlett about using different levels of plants and mixing of colours to make a garden seeming to be designed by God and not by man.

Mr. Daniel worked his magic on July as well, helping the elderly man with the expanded vegetable garden, politely asking him for his advice on cabbages and string beans which impressed July.

“Ain't too big for his britches to know that the old uns knows more 'bout growin' dan any book readin' do.”

Lola was happy too with all the new smells and enjoyed rolling in the lovely manure though she didn't enjoy the baths after quite so much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Three times a week, Scarlett would visit the mills with India and every fortnight she would go over the large red leather bound ledgers of her businesses, tallying the long columns of numbers and counting out the wages for her employees.

Scarlett remembered the words that Grandma Fontaine from years ago. They hadn't meant much to her then -she had been heart sick with the death of Pa and the old woman rightly, as it turned out, pointing out that Ashley was not meant for this new reality and it would be Melly that pulled him through. She had been angry and barely heard the old woman at the time but those wise words had stuck in her memory.  _“.._ _get every cent out of them you can, but when you've_ _got enough money, kick them in the face, because they can't serve you any longer. Be sure you do that and do it properly, for trash hanging onto your coat tails can ruin you.”*_

And Scarlett had followed her advise. She blatantly gouged all those born North and snubbed them at every opportunity but Yankees were odd. They seemed to think that the sugared rudeness was a sign of Southern acceptance and they flocked to her mills and the store, feeling as if they had been included in some secret society.

“How did they ever win the war?” Scarlett would wonder. “They have no more sense than a guinea hen in the rain.”

Mrs. Bonnel had put her name forward to become a member of Ladies of Atlanta Horticultural Club which was voted on by the members and she had been surprisingly accepted. The following day, Scarlett made the journey to Oakland cemetery for the anniversary of Melly's passing She had brought along her trowel and sowed the grave with forget-me-not seeds. The flowers were as delicate as Melly and they would blossom there forever.

Letters for Wade still came from Rhett, which Scarlett duly passed along. Her fingers would itch to read them but instead satisfied herself with hearing the small tidbits of information Wade would offer over dinner. Occasionally a printed card would be delivered to Ella causing her to scream with delight and for days after little Ella would tell Scarlett over and over what Rhett had said and ask when he would be home again or when could the visit him. Scarlett had no answer and usually had to come up with some fantastical tale of fairies and elves she had seen in the garden to distract Ella.

She continued her correspondence with Mrs. Butler but refrained from asking about Rhett and Mrs. Butler, in reply, offered little information about her son, only saying that Rhett was busy and traveling often.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christmas was upon Scarlett before she knew it. This year she chose not to wait in Atlanta on the chance that Rhett might grace them with his presence but shut up the house and took Suellen up on her invitation for a family Christmas at Tara. In a fit of obvious madness, Scarlett invited Aunt Pitty, who had become more doddery every day, and India to help with the old lady. Uncle Henry too was invited but he said he preferred to spend his holiday with a good book and a better bottle of brandy.

The train trip involved many checks to see that Pitty had her swoon bottle, her smelling salts and her special medicine. Wade, who was becoming a fine young gentleman, tended to Aunt Pitty's ditherings - picking up her dropped gloves, helping her with shawls that slipped away from her neck and her fretting whether to be beside the window or closer to the heater. He never became annoyed with the elderly lady, no matter how many times she called him Charles.

They arrived to a welcome from Suellen and the house was warm after the raw wind that had their teeth chattering on the carriage ride from the train station.

The scent of a mixture of cinnamon and pine from the swags of boughs that swathed the banister and the mantle almost overwhelmed Scarlett with memories of Christmas past.

Big Sam, Will and Beau were struggling with a large tree in the drawing room and Wade quickly stepped in to help as did Sue's little boy, reaching up his plump arms to the tree, well above the little boy's reach.

The ladies all began a chorus of where she each thought the tree should be placed, making the men move the tree here and there and finally after much laughter the Christmas tree was put where it had always been placed - between the two tall windows at the front of the room.

“We will decorate it this evening, after dinner.” Sue announced.

The men each gave a look of relief and Will led them away to have a sip of cider in the kitchen while the little girls, Suzie, Ella and Annabeth disappeared upstairs to play.

Over tea, Suellen filled the ladies in with news of the county. The Slattery clan had finally left the county. They had burned through the money they had gotten from Washington due to Wilkerson's influence and once it was gone they found their neighbours were no longer interested in handing out charity to them again. They had lorded themselves over the county, insulting and dismissing those that had kept them alive for so many years before the war, giving themselves airs high above their station but the air went out of their balloon when they came begging again. Folks of the county had barely enough for themselves and though they were willing to share what little they had with those of their kind, the Slattery's had killed both Ellen and in a way, Gerald O'Hara and the county would never forget. It was a happy day when they loaded up their wagon, spilling over with cheap furniture and numerous children and left the county for good. Both Scarlett and India nodded, glad the trash were finally gone.

“It seems Cathleen Calvert has returned back. Her husband, that no account Hilton, left her in Cincinatti to take up with a rich widow. She had only five dollars she had hidden away in her petticoats.”

“How did she manage to get home?” India asked.

“She says with the help of good Christians.” Suellen smugly said.

India and Suellen both had the same idea as to how Cathleen had actually made her way home but it wouldn't do to say it aloud in front of poor innocent, Aunt Pitty.

“What is she doing here?” Scarlett asked.

“She had no other place to go. And even though Pine Bloom was lost because of the mortgage that Yankee Hilton had reneged on, she wanted to be where she was reared. She is in a rooming house in Jonesboro, trying to take in sewing, which made me laugh. Her stitches were worse than yours, Scarlett!”

“How quickly some of the finest families fell after the War.” India said with a tone of superiority that rankled Scarlett. “So many are no better than poor white now.”

“Or a scallywag.” Scarlett thought to herself. She was still fighting to redeem herself to the stiff necked, close minded quality folk and she knew they would never really accept her back in their inner fold. They would take her money and be polite to her but she had burnt her bridges years ago when all she had cared about was making money and keeping Tara.

“Poor Cathleen.” Scarlett said. Pretty Cathleen with her corn flower blue eyes, a belle only second to Scarlett for beaux, marrying her father's overseer, the Yankee Hilton, so that her brother Cade could die with some comfort. A wave of guilt washed over Scarlett. “I would like to help her. Sue, may I invite her to Christmas supper?”

“Why on earth would you want her here, Scarlett? I told you how low she has fallen – taking in sewing and no doubt other things.”

“I feel I owe it to her. Please Sue - for me?”

“Well if it means that much to you.” Suellen said with ill grace.  
“I will take the buggy there this afternoon. Thank you.”

By now, Aunt Pitty was weary and India took her to her room with Suellen showing the way and Scarlett slipped away to visit with Mammy in the kitchen.

By the wide kitchen fire, its white washed bricks stained with years of smoke and soot, Mammy sat in the large battered captain's chair that once had been pride of place in the dining room. She had a stuffed cushion behind her back and a brightly coloured quilt around her legs.

“Mammy...Mammy, it's me, Katie Scarlett.” Scarlett said softly to the dozing woman. Mammy's black skin had faded to an ashen gray now, her head was wrapped in a snowy white turban that Scarlett had never seen her without and her swollen arthritic fingers were entwined in her old brass and wood rosary.

Mammy stirred and she blinked open her eyes, one now clouded over with cataract.

“How are you Mammy?”

“Is that you, Miz Scarlett?”

“Yes Mammy, it's me. I'm home for Christmas. Are you well Mammy?”

Mammy nodded her head and smiled. “I'm on my way home, chile.”

“What do you mean? You are here at Tara - you are home.”

The old woman slowly shook her head. “I'm going home to Jesus soon. I'm going to see Miz Ellen by and by.”

“Not now Mammy. You have many more years ahead of you. Why you have to dance at Ella's wedding!” Scarlett felt tears pricking at her eyes. “Not now.”

“Soon Miz Scarlett, it will be soon. It's time.” She placed her gnarled hand on Scarlett's. “Don't you fuss 'bout me. I'm happy to go. It's time. Now hush, baby girl, don't you cry. Your mammy is tired and needs to go. My Savior is there waiting for me with Miz Ellen standing by him.”

“But you can't go yet, Mammy. Not when I still need you!”

“You don't need your Mammy no more, honey. You are a fine lady – just as fine as your mother. And I'll always be here with you, watching over you. Just like Miz Ellen and Masta Gerald.” Mammy's eyes began to droop. “Hush now, baby chile....” She breathed a large sigh and went back to sleep.

Scarlett stood still and gazed at her. She gently kissed the old woman's soft cheek and whispered in her ear. “My Mammy. Yes, you will always be with me.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Scarlett shivered in the chill air as she pulled up before the mean, ramshackle house. She had never been on this back street of Jonesboro, having only seen the main streets when she went with her Pa.

Dead leaves still clinging to the gnarled plane tree rattled in the light wind.

She walked along the broken, uneven brick pathway and read the crudely written sign posted on the sagging front porch - 'Rooms to Rent'.

Scarlett stepped into the small hallway, it smelled of dirty socks and sour milk. A thick coat of dust layered every surface and some leaves were scattered over the thinning rug.

Two men, one with small brown eyes in a fat face, the other with sunken cheeks and obvious dyed black hair were huddled near a smoking fire. There was a cribbage board and cards on the scratched table between then. They glanced over at Scarlett and the fat man grinned, showing his yellow stubby teeth.

“A new guest and a pretty one too, eh Firth?”

The thin man sneered and looked down at his cards.

The first man bawled out, “Miss Milguard!” He stood and moved closer to Scarlett.

A harried looking woman, her hair in curling pins, stuck her head out a door.

“Mr. Saunders, do I need to remind you I am not your servant and I am not at your beck and call.”

“New guest, Miss Milguard.” he said jerking his thumb at Scarlett.

The skinny woman came forward, wiping her hands on her soiled apron. “Well ma'am, I'm not sure if I have anything available.”

Mr. Saunders said “She could have mine but then she'd have to share with Firth here and I wouldn't wish that on anyone, what with his constant nose blowing!” He snorted with laughter.

“I don't need a room. I'm here to visit my friend, Mrs. Hilton.” Scarlett said, ignoring the men.

“There's no one here by that name, ma'am. The only lady here is a Miss Calvert.”

“That is who I wish to see, is she in?”

“Ah, our little dormouse. She keeps to herself that one, hides away in her room with the door locked.” Saunders said.

Firth sniffed, “How do you know she keeps her door locked, Saunders?”  
The fat man's face reddened. “I just do Firth – that's how.”

“Would you show me to her room or ask her to come down please.” Scarlett said to the landlady.

“Well, I'm in the middle of cooking ma'am...”

“Don't despair, Miss Milguard, I will show the lady up.”

Saunders led Scarlett up the worn wooden stairs, dimly lit by a filthy Gothic stained glass window.

“Watch your step here, miss, there is a loose board. Let me take your hand.”

Saunders made a grab for Scarlett who easily managed to side step him.

“Thank you – I can manage.”

Saunders grinned, “Feisty aren't you? Just the way I like it.” as he leered down at her.

He led her towards a door hanging crooked on it's hinges and gave a loud rat-a-tat upon it.

A voice behind it spoke, “Please leave me alone, Mr. Saunders. I've asked you before and will have to speak to Miss Milguard again if you won't stop bothering me.”

“And here I've brought you a visitor, Miss Calvert. You should show me some gratitude.”

“I'm not expecting any visitor. Please leave me alone!”

“Cathleen, it's me – Scarlett, Scarlett O'Hara.”

Scarlett heard a key turn in the lock and the door slowly opened. Cathleen's pale thin face peered out. “Scarlett?”

“Oh Cathleen, it is so good to see you again. May I come in?”

“Yes, Miss Calvert, let us in and we can all have a good chinwag” Saunders butted in, his loud voice boomed in the narrow hallway.

“Oh I doubt you would enjoy our girl talk, Mr. Saunders. Thank you so much for your assistance.” Scarlett' voice dripped honey as she stepped into the room, swiftly closing the door and turning the key behind her.

The women held their breath and waited. Finally they heard a mumbled stream of swear words and the heavy stomp of Saunders going down the stairs. They both began to giggle.

Cathleen said, “It is just like old times with you trying to free yourself from the charms of Jonny Falkins.”

“I remember..he had a badly spotted face and I don't think his voice ever changed – 'Miss O'Hara, may I hold your fan, may I dance with you, Miss O'Hara would you care to walk in the garden?” Scarlett yodeled her voice up and down. “What ever happened to him?”

“The Wilderness campaign I think.” Cathleen said, her smile faded.

Scarlett looked at her girlhood friend. The years hadn't been kind to Cathleen. Her face was too thin and deep lines gouged along her mouth. Her once thick blonde curls were scraggy and washed out and her collar bones jutted out painfully. The bright blue eyes were dull and purple stained.

Cathleen raised her chin, seeing Scarlett's look of pity.

“Why are you here, Scarlett?” she asked baldly.

Scarlett smoothly replied, “I've only just heard you were back in Clayton County so of course I came at once. Oh Cathleen, it is good to see you again! May I sit?”

She glanced around the small room. There was a wooden chair with a lumpy cushion beside the fire which was putting out more smoke than heat. A narrow iron bed, it's white paint chipped with a tattered yellowed coverlet and a grayish pillow stood by the wall. The room felt damp and condensation streamed down the window.

Scarlett, not waiting for a response, darted to the chair and held her hands before the fire.

“My it is bitter outside. I wouldn't be surprised if there is frost tonight.”

Cathleen slowly moved to the bed and sat, the rusted springs squealed sharply. She waited for Scarlett to speak.

Scarlett continued “But it's Christmas – one of my favourite times of year.”

Cathleen still stayed mute as she looked at Scarlett. “Do you have any plans for Christmas, Cathleen?”

“Of course. The Prince of Wales is dropping by to take me for tea.” Cathleen sneered, “No Scarlett, my plans are to stay locked in this room and to avoid Mr. Saunders.”

“Good – then you are free to come to Tara.” Scarlett said.

“Tara!” Cathleen's fingers began to fret at her stained skirt. “I doubt Suellen would welcome me to Tara.”

“How do you think I found out you were here? Suellen sent me to invite you. Oh Cathleen, you must come and keep me company. Besides I doubt the cuisine of Mrs. Milguard's would hold a candle to the feast at Tara. Cathleen come – it will be like old times - well almost - and it would do you good.”

“I don't have anything to wear Scarlett and I don't know if you heard...”

“I've heard nothing that interests me in the slightest except my friend Cathleen Calvert is home again in Clayton County. As for clothes, who gives a fig what your wear?”

Cathleen gazed at Scarlet in her perfectly clean deep red dress with black frogging, the dainty red hat with it's dotted veil, her heeled suede boot and black leather gloves.

“Easy for you to say, Scarlett. Look at you – you could dine with the Prince of Wales right now.”

“Maybe I could, but would prefer to dine with my friend. Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. From the smell of things, Miss Milguard is cooking cabbage and salted pork.” Scarlett sensed Cathleen was beginning to waver. “If you are that worried about your clothes I could give you a dress.”

Cathleen jerked up, straightening her back and lifting her chin. “I'm not looking for your charity.”

“Oh bosh Cathleen, I'm not giving it! You know I have never offered something without expecting something in return.”

Cathleen's mouth began to quiver and then small smile broke out.“Yes, that is very true. Alright Scarlett, what is it you want? I have nothing to give.”  
“I want you to come to Tara for Christmas – partly because I want a Christmas like the old days.”

Cathleen closed down again. “The old days are dead, just like all the good men, Scarlett. We will never have those days again. We will only have the ghosts of those days.” Her voice was brittle and her body was tight. “I hate them, they are in my dreams every night. I came back to Clayton because I thought I could find some peace from them but they are still here. I walk down Mill Street and I think I see Lafe and Cade and Raif walking in front. I call out and run towards them but they are just ghosts. Wisps that disappear.

I'm not welcome here but I don't know where else to go. I thought...” She shrugged. “I don't know what I thought. I wish my life was over so I could then be at peace from the memories.” She sat quietly and then looked up at Scarlett. “Nothing turned out like I thought it would. Everything I was told was a lie.”

She shifted on the bed, the springs screeched again. “I don't know why I'm telling you this. You obviously landed on your feet.”

“At great cost though, Cathleen.” Scarlett said. “And I will probably pay for it for the rest of my life.” Scarlett stood up. “I've learned you can't change your past but you can change your future and it's time for you to change your future, Cathleen. It starts with packing your bag and coming with me.”

“I hardly need to pack a bag to go to Tara for dinner.”

“But you will to come to Atlanta.”

“Atlanta! And what would I do in Atlanta?”

“I don't know yet but you are coming. Don't bother fighting me Cathleen. You know I always get what I want. You are going to wash your face and pack your bag now. I will go tell Mrs. Milguard you no longer need the room.”

Cathleen stood up quickly and held tightly to Scarlett's arm. “I can't – you can't – Mrs. Milguard will want...”

“Do you owe her money?”  
Cathleen nodded her head.

“Leave it to me.”

“Oh God – I won't take your money. Leave me be. I was fine before you came pestering me.”

“So fine?” Scarlett answered back. “Living in a miserable room when you once lived at Pine Bloom.. no Cathleen, not so fine.”

“Why do you want me to come with you? Why are you being so kind? If you knew what I had done....” Cathleen seemed ready to break.

“I don't give a damn what you have done, Cathleen. You did what you had to do as did I. Who am I or anyone else to judge you?” Cathleen's back straightened and her chin rose up. Scarlett continued. “I've learned the best way to put the ghost of sad memories away is to make new memories, happy ones. We can't live our lives remembering our mistakes. They are in the past, gone as quick as a firefly's light.”

Cathleen leaned against Scarlett. “When did you get so smart, Scarlett?”

“When I lost everything that was dear to me. Now pack your bag and I will see to Mrs. Milguard. Shall I give my regrets to Mr. Saunders for you?”

“You may kick him in the shins for me.”

The women laughed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Scarlett got her wish. It was a Christmas much like the old days. She woke to the children's cries of delight and laughter as they undid their stockings at the end of their beds.

Scarlett remembered back to her own girlhood - the inpatient anticipation of Christmas morning and the excitement of opening her presents. She relived it watching Wade and Ella and Suellen's children opening theirs. Wade carefully undoing the ribbon and tissue, Ella tearing in to hers. For first time in Scarlett's life, she found herself more excited watching her family opening their gifts than opening her own.

She was very happy with her own presents though. From Beau, a tooled leather belt to wear while she gardened, to hold the English made secateurs and a garden trowel from Ella and Wade, and from Suellen and Will, a fine sturdy pair of gardening gloves.

The smell of the goose and the ham roasting wafted through the house as they breakfasted on scrambled eggs and biscuits. The children tossed up the oranges that Scarlett had stowed in the toe of their stockings. She had ordered them in from Florida as a special treat and they were a great delight to them.

They all joined together to listen to Suellen read Careen's letter, one of the three she was permitted to write each year. Scarlett grew bored listening to the litany of Careen's good works and quotes from the bible but kept an outwardly cheerful face as she contemplated what she would do with Cathleen in Atlanta. She felt sure that Cathleen would not fair well if she stayed in Jonesboro.

Cathleen had always been a very silly young girl with no brains at all. She should have married Lafe Munroe and lived out her days as mother to a large brood of children. She had always longed for babies - she forever played with her dolls, well after she lowered her skirts and piled up her hair.

But Scarlett sensed Cathleen had lost her girlhood naivety long ago. She was now mistrusting and leery of anyone. With good cause too. Hilton had taken away the final hope of life's happiness. He had made her no better than Emmie Slattery to the eyes of the county. Yet Cathleen would probably do it all again to give Cade a comfortable death. Just as Scarlett would have married Frank again to save Tara.

A small inkling of an idea began to form in Scarlett's mind.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

In the early afternoon the Christmas guests began to arrive. All those still living in Clayton County joined together at Tara to celebrate. First to arrive were the Tarletons -Mr. And Mrs. Tarleton, she still wearing an old bedraggled riding skirt. Well at least Cathleen is better dressed than her Scarlett thought. Randa who had married the doctor in Lovejoy was there with her twin baby girls, both taking after their brown haired father. They had met when Hetty, looking more like her mother every day, her face tanned by the sun but her blue eyes still bright with mischief, had broken her collar bone when breaking a new colt. Betsy, now widowed by her one-armed husband and plumper than Aunt Pitty came with her three red headed boys. Camilla was the only one missing. She had met man from Louisiana who she had met in Lovejoy when he was visiting , Randa's husband. He had come from one of the great Creole families of Lafayette and they were living in Texas. Hetty whispered to Scarlett that they were near Tony Fontaine's ranch and visited with him and his Mexican wife often. Tony already had five children, all boys, and said he was aiming for a solid seven with a girl to even things up.

Alex and Sally Fontaine with Young Joe, now a tall and gangling teen came next. Sally was still as spunky as when she made her wild ride to Tara to warn them of the Yankees and kept both Alex and Young Joe in line but they loved her and put up with her chiding.

 

Scarlett gazed around the room, looking at the faces and the people she had known since her childhood. A swelling of pride filled her. They had been beat, beat hard, by the Yankees. Their comfortable lives had been changed forever. They had lost their wealth, their sons, their brothers, their sweethearts. Their land had mostly returned to wilderness and they were lucky to have two servants when once they had hundreds of slaves - yet here they were – in clothes, their Sunday best, that one would have seen on a yeoman farmer, not the fine silks and satins of the past. The men's shirt's were plain cotton, not the ruffled fawn linen they once wore, their boots were working boots, not high Cordavan leather riding boots. The ladies wore simple gowns with ribbons they had added themselves. Their clothes were clean and pressed and much better than the rags they had all worn once but they would not be found in a ladies magazine

Their hands, both gentleman's and ladies, were callused and rough from hard work. But their spirit was as strong as when they lived a life of princesses and princes. The Yankees hadn't whipped them. They had strong backs that withstood all that had come their way. Like Grandma Fontaine had once said, they were buckwheat, as straight and as strong as before.

 

In the dining room, decorated with swags of evergreens and lit with numerous beeswax candles, the company dined. Two long tables had been pushed together and the food served buffet style.

No one except the really rich had full table services nowadays, the Yankees had made sport with china, tossing plates in the air and trying to shoot them before they fell or simply pushing over kitchen dressers, leaving piles of broken china. The guests had brought their own plates, some chipped and most faded from many years of washing, and their own flatware, heavy silverware that had been hidden in wells, buried in pigsties or concealed in fireplaces to keep them out of the hand of the Yankee looters.

No one minded things were mismatched - it was the company and the food that made the meal and the meal was a glorious feast. Goose, golden with drippings, and an apple and bread stuffing, ham studded with cloves, chicken, duck, beef roast along with sweet yams in honey, vegetables put up over the summer, potatoes mashed with buttermilk, thick gravy, sweet butter, bread, crackers, syllabub, and the champagne and chocolates that Scarlett had brought. Gone were the days when ladies only nibbled at a biscuit to show how lady-like they were – now all, possibly remembering back to those long days of hunger, ate with gusto.

The assembled laughed and talked as they ate, the young boys making many trips back to the tables to get seconds, thirds, and Young Joe went for fourths! Cider and champagne was filled into the assorted glasses again and again and the laughter grew louder.

When all had had their fill and the dishes put aside, Will stood beside Suellen, seated in Mother's old chair and spoke. “To my wife, my children, my family, my neighbours, my friends – I wish you a Merry Christmas. To those that are not with us, those we have lost and to those who we have yet to meet, God Bless you all.”

Scarlett was shocked to see him bend down and kiss Suellen and even more shocked when she saw Suellen reciprocate the kiss.

“Merry Christmas – God Bless - ' everyone toasted raising their glasses, Aunt Pitty tried desperately to stifle a belch without success.

“And now, if you will, I am told we are to make our way to the parlour for a little music and some dancing!” He bowed to Suellen and held his hand out to her. Suellen smiled like a young belle as she took his hand and led her guests across the hall.

The rag rugs had been rolled away and the furniture pushed to the sides. India sat at the scratched and battered piano, it's ivory keys worn with use, and with Will on fiddle and Beau on his tin whistle, the music and the dancing began.

The gentlemen all took turns dancing with the ladies, reels and quadrilles. The young boys were pushed to dance with the ladies and girls and after their initial hesitation were soon swinging themselves around and stopping their feet in time to the music. Aunt Pitty, proving she was aptly name, danced like a young girl and flirted with Mr. Tarleton. Everyone's faces were pink with the exertion of dancing and the joy of being at a party again.

It was long after everyone's usually bedtime before the guests made their farewells, thanking Will and Suellen for a Christmas of the old days.

Scarlett and Cathleen made their way up the stairs, slightly light headed from the wine and the dancing. Cathleen slipped her arm around Scarlett's waist “Thank you Scarlett. You don't know what you have done for me. This has been the best Christmas in I don't know how long.”

“Good Cathleen. I'm glad.”

“Oh, I fear my head will ache tomorrow.”

“Then have a good lie in – you don't have to get up 'til noon if you don't want. We aren't leaving until four.”

“Are you sure you want me in Atlanta?”

“Why I wouldn't ask you if I didn't. Good night Cathleen – pleasant dreams.”

“I'm sure they will be. Good night Scarlett. You are my Christmas fairy.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Unlike the other ladies, Scarlett woke early. The gray light was just beginning to lighten the sky as she splashed her face with cold water and dressed. She quietly made her way downstairs to the warm kitchen.

Will, Beau and Big Sam were just sitting down to their breakfast. They had already been out to feed and water the stock and were surprised when Scarlett came through the door.

“Why Scarlett, you are up early – I thought you would have been wanting a long lie in after yesterdays festivities.” Will said.

“I'm not quite the lady of leisure you think, Will Benteen.” Scarlett laughed as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “It is rare I stay in bed after sunrise.” She joined the men at the table.

“Sam, when you are finished your breakfast could you hitch the mule to the wagon? Oh and I will need a shovel and a fork. Also, are there any old seed bags? I think I'll need about eight – no twelve, just in case.”

“Where you off to, Scarlett?” Will asked.

“Twelve Oaks.” Scarlett replied as she nibbled on a slice of fried ham.

“Why there? Not much to see.”

“I remembered Mrs. Wilkes rose garden. She had the sweetest scented roses and I want them for my garden. You don't mind Beau do you? Better I tend to them than they be choked out by blackberries. They will be given pride of place in my garden.”

Will and Sam exchanged looks. “I'm not sure they're even there no more Scarlett.”Will said. “ 'Tween the Yankees tearing up the yard and the weeds growin' sky high.”

“Maybe, but it's worth a look. There was one that I loved, it was deep pink and the scent was so sweet. I remember your mother had them in her bridal bouquet, Beau.”

“How's about Sam and I come with ya?” Will said as he gulped down his coffee and stood up from the table.

“No need – I can manage myself. I don't want to take you away from your work.”

“It's alright. We don't have much to do here. Sam, go hitch the wagon and I'll get the tools and the seed bags.”

Beau quickly gulped down the rest of his breakfast and moved to follow Sam.

“Where do you think you is going, Beau?”

“Why with you, to help Auntie.”

“No you ain't. You need to stay here.” Will said sternly.

“But why – I can help.” Beau said.

“I want you to stay here and keep an eye on Nettie. She may calve soon and she'll need some help.”

“ But I don't how to help a cow calve! What do I do?”

“Jes talk to her, that's all. Females like a gentle word when they is giving birth. Ready Scarlett?”

Scarlett jumped up and said “ I will meet you by the barn. I need to get my cloak and my new garden belt.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Scarlett chatted happily as they drove along the road to Twelve Oaks. She shared the knowledge that Mr. Daniel had given her and gave suggestions to Will on the new cotton seeds that were being developed. Neither Will nor Big Sam seemed interested in talking but rather strained.

“What is wrong with you two?” Scarlett said. “Too much Christmas cheer got you sluggish?”

“Guess so, Scarlett.” Will replied. “We ain't used to talking much this early in the morning.”.

“I'm sorry to drag you out but I wanted to visit Twelve Oaks before I have to leave on the afternoon train. I could have gone by myself, you know. You didn't need to come too. I'm quite handy with a spade and fork now.”

“I have no doubt you are, Scarlett.”

They crossed over the swiftly running river and down the drive to Twelve Oaks. It was deeply rutted and no longer edged with the towering oaks that had once lined the way - cut down by the Yankees for their fires or just to be malicious. Brambles and scrabbly Georgia pine now lined the narrowed path.

Scarlett looked up the hill, she still thought she would see the graceful pillared home. Melly would have been happy here as mistress of the grand house. She and Ashley would have spent their days reading books in the library and raising Beau. Damn the war, damn the men that caused it. If she lived to be a hundred she would never stop hating those that had destroyed her world.

“I see smoke!” Scarlett said. “Is there someone living here?” Will and Big Sam exchanged a glance but said nothing. The mules moved on as the wagon jostled along the drive. “Who is it?”

“Two families live here. The Wilkes and the Kirks.” Will said.

“The Wilkes? What are you talking about Will? Why you must be teasing me now. And the Kirks left for Texas after Sherman came to Georgia.”

They pulled up to where once the house had stood. It was all gone, just a blackened hole, even the towering chimneys, Sherman's Sentinels, were gone. Scarlett's eyes darted over to the left, a brick house stood over near the stream, the bricks still coated with soot. Whoever it was that lived here now had used the chimneys of Twelve Oaks to build a house. Scarlett felt slightly impressed by this. Waste not want not. Curtains hung in the window and she could hear a baby crying. The door opened and

two negro men came out. One carried a shotgun, the other an axe.

“Stay in the wagon, Scarlett. Let us do the talking.” Will mumbled as he and Big Sam stepped down. Scarlett opened her mouth to reply but kept quiet.

“ 'lo Mr. Wilkes, Mr. Kirk. The best of the season to ya.” Will said.

The men nodded. “Summen ya want, Mr. Benteen or ya here jes ta pass time?” The man with the gun said.

“Wal, Mr. Wilkes, you know how it can be at Christmas, your relatives come for a visit. And my sister-in-law, came from Atlanta. She grew up at Tara and visited the family here often. So, she has a garden, ya see. And she was thinking on some roses that used to grow here and how she would like them for herself. Now, I know how ladies are about their flowers and once they think they want somethin' wal the best thing is to let them have it. It brings peace to a man to just let 'em have it. You know what I'm talkin' bout?”

The men all chuckled. “So, we are here to ask if we might see if those roses are available for sale.”

Scarlett dug her nails into her gloves. Asking permission to buy Mrs. Wilkes roses, well...

“Wal Mr. Benteen, I don' know about flowers, we think more 'bout crops here. Have you bought your seed yet? We were hopin' to git some of that 'Bama cotton seed which seems to grow near high as a tree and full as a barrel.”

“We were lookin' at it but I think we'll stickin' with the the same as last year's. It gave a good crop and the Alabama one seems too good to be actual, in my mind. If you grow it, I'd be curious how it works for ya.”

“Maybes we'll try it on a quarter. The dirts been quiet for a bit so it looks like anything will grow.” The men seemed to have forgotten she was even there and why they had come to Twelve Oaks in the first place. Though any other time Scarlett would have been interested in the seed from Alabama and crops in general, she wanted to leave this place. The ghosts were too vivid for her.

Scarlett tried to catch Will's eye, to get him to get back to the reason they were there but he seemed to purposefully ignore her.

Scarlett stepped down from the wagon and walked over to the men. Will and Big Sam noticed but acted as though she wasn't even there.

“Mr. Kirk, Mr. Wilkes, my name is Mrs. Butler.”

The black men glanced over at her briefly and turned back to Will and Big Sam.

“Our sow will be looking for boar soon 'nuf. You interested in makin' barter?”

Scarlett's temper rose higher and she interrupted. “Mr. Wilkes, I want those roses. If I have to, I will pay you for them but considering this isn't even your land I don't know how you can expect payment.”

The black men bridled and whirled at her. “This is our land!”

Mr. Wilkes glowered down at Scarlett. She could feel the heat of his anger emanating from him “It was our sweat that grew it, it was our work that tilled it Missy. I've been workin' this land for twenty years now. I was born here and worked it my whole life. It's our land, we own it and thar ain't nothin' you can do 'bout it. You forget you white folk lost the war and we won it. So don't you be talkin' down to us like we is your field slaves no more. We own this land and everything on it, every brick, every tree, every rose bush.”

Scarlett stepped back. Never had she been spoken to in this way by a negro. Big Sam moved closer to her.

Will drawled, “As I told ya, she's from Atlanta and doesn't really know how things are here in the county.” His placid demeanor calmed them all.

Mr. Wilkes and Mr. Kirk visibly relaxed and grinned at Will.

“ I'm sure Ol' Hank would welcome a visit from your sow. When she's ready, bring her by.”

“What can I barter ya?”

“If you don't have any need for those rose bushes, I'd 'preciate them. It would make the drive back to Tara a bit more peaceful.”

The men all laughed. Scarlett tried to smile too but the shock of this visit to Twelve Oaks had rattled her.

“Take your pick of dem. Dey look like weeds ta me.”

Will went to the wagon and pulled out the fork and the shovel, Big Sam collected the seed bags.

“All the best of the New Year, Mr. Benteen, Big Sam.”

Will and Sam shook hands with them. “And to you and your families.”

“ And your welcome Missus Butler.” The men laughed as they went back to the brick house.

Scarlett burned with impotent anger. She had been berated and talked down to like she was no better than dirt. She wished she had never come here again.

Will walked beside her. “He's right you know. Times have changed and you can either get used to it and move with it or stay stuck in the past. I always thought you hated lookin' back Scarlett.”

“I do...I did..” Scarlett wanted to cry. “It's just I never thought..”

“Wal now, don't think about it then. Now which ones do you want here.” Will and Big Sam got to work on digging out Mrs. Wilkes roses.

***************

Scarlett was happily digging in her garden, feeling the warmth of the spring sun on her back and proudly taking in the colour and scent that her's and Mr. Daniel's hard work had given to the grounds around the house. The garden beds were filling out with the flowers the ladies had given her, the seeds she had planted, bulbs she had bought from Europe, the shrubs Daniel had suggested. Everything they had planted seemed to flourish in the rich fertilized soil.

Jasmines, both Mrs Elsing's and Mrs. Merriwether's, were sprouting over the wrought iron gazebo, twining together to soften the structure and shade it from the sun. It was going to be a lovely place to have her breakfast when summer came.

Mrs. Wilkes' roses that she had planted around her small bird bath had begun budding out and she felt sure they would soon rival any of the others in Atlanta. Tall flags of royal purple iris waved in the small breeze and the rhododendrons bright red blossoms stood out against the dark green foliage. Yellow faces of dainty pansies bordered the box hedge and circled round the trees and branches of wigelia bowed over the stone wall.

Scarlett heard the small birds, finches and chickadees, chirping with the same pleasure her garden gave to her.

 

“I should have a swing on the apple tree. Ella would like it.” Scarlett thought as she watched pale pink petals lightly fall from the old gnarled tree. “Every young girl needs a swing for her beau to push.” Scarlett's thoughts went back to Tara's swing in the crab apple tree and the many beaux that made her laugh with delight as her skirts billowed out allowing glimpses of her tiny ankles.

Lola was lying beside her in the spring sunshine, gnawing on a bone Cook had saved from last night's dinner. She suddenly jumped up and began barking fiercely, ready to defend her mistress to the death from the intruder.

Scarlett looked up and saw Rhett coming towards them. He once again walked tall, his shoulders broad and proud. His face had regained the sharp lines, his eyes the boldness and reckless spirit he had when she first cast eyes on him many years ago. He strode towards them with the air of arrogance he had always worn, as a prince of the land, the ruler of all. He was carrying something delicately in his arms.

She felt the deep want of him and the sharp pain of losing him.

Scarlett bent back to her garden, pretending to ignore Rhett, though her heart beat rapidly. She wished she was wearing something more attractive then her old garden dress with it's large pockets and simple style, she feared there was dirt smudged on her face and she was sure her hair looked like a rat's nest under her broad brimmed straw hat. She felt irritated at him. Why did he have to come when she wasn't looking her best?

“Hello Lola, don't you remember me?” Rhett put it out his hand for the dog to smell. Lola wagged her tail and pushed up against his leg. Rhett's smooth drawl sent a shiver up Scarlett's spine, - she had missed hearing his deep voice. “How are you girl? Have you missed me?”

Lola reveled in Rhett's touch and stretched up her head for Rhett to scratch her neck, drooling down his hand. Scarlett began to smile, her dimples flashed.

“And Mrs. Butler, how are you?” Rhett said cordially.

“Humph,” Scarlett said, smothering her smile into a scowl, as she tried to ignore the contradictory feelings he had stirred within her. He had ignored her for more than a year, dismissed her, and dragged their marriage through the mud of scandal, yet here he was and she wanted him as much now as the night Melly had died.

“Scarlett O'Hara, digging in the dirt – just like your peasant ancestors. Tell me, I have always heard how the Irish love their potatoes, is that what you are grubbing for?” Rhett said.

“Why are you here, Rhett - another one of your whores die?” Scarlett flared.

She sensed his anger and knew she had hurt him. Oh why couldn't she have held her tongue, ignored him, shown him the lady she had become.

Lola whined and began to beg for Rhett's attention

“Hush Lola.” Scarlett snapped, her nerves taut.

“Still the kind-hearted lover of children and animals, aren't you Scarlett.” Rhett smirked. “I am here at the request of my mother. She asked me to bring you this.” Rhett indicated the parcel he carried. It was wrapped in brown paper and obviously, from the way Rhett handled it, something delicate.

“Oh, her peony!” Scarlett squealed as she jumped up and took it from him. She carefully unwrapped the twine and paper from around the pot.

“And here are a list of instructions she said you must abide by.” Rhett passed an envelope to Scarlett.

“Oh what a beauty she is!” Scarlett said looking at the fragile deep red sprouts with their small green leaves. “How kind of your mother. Please tell her I will treasure it forever.”

Scarlett's eyes were alight as though she had received a queen's necklace. She opened the envelope and read the enclosed letter, nodding her head and glancing over the garden, forgetting Rhett was there. “I must find the perfect spot for this lovely. 'Peonies hate being moved and will probably not bloom this year out of spite but with careful handling will bloom next year.' ” she read. “I think I will plant it in the bed near the bronze mastiff, then I will be able to see it every morning when I wake. Oh how very kind of her.”

“Yes, she is kind.”

Scarlett glanced at Rhett and remembered again how he had treated her. “Thank you for delivering it. You may go now.” Scarlett said, dismissing Rhett like some errand boy, though she longed for him to stay.

“I came not just to deliver the plant from my mother but to speak to you as well, Scarlett.”

“Really, what about?”

“I would prefer to speak to you in the office rather than here.”

“Why, is it a secret?”

“No, but I think it would be best to talk about it inside.”

“As you wish.” Scarlett walked quickly towards the house with Rhett following behind. She carefully set down the peony on the terrace, and with a nod of her head she entered through the tall window to the office, she dropped her gardening gloves and hat on the desk and turned to Rhett. “I need to wash my hands. Please make yourself at home.”

“As I paid for it, I will.” Rhett said. He glanced around, taking in the changes to what had been his sanctum.

“If you need your whiskey, I will have Pork bring a bottle up from the cellar.”

“Thank you.” Rhett said. He leaned against the marble mantle and drew a small cigarillo from his old case. Scarlett felt a small pang again at the thought of the gold case she had given to him and that he had refused.

 

When Scarlett returned to the office, her face washed, cheeks pinched and lips red with painful bites, she had convinced herself that she would face Rhett with the same strength as Grandma Robillard. She would be cool and dismissive as the grandest of ladies.

“I see Pork has brought you your whiskey.”

Rhett tipped his glass in toast to her. “He did, thank you.”

Scarlett went to the tray which held the decanter of whiskey and poured a glass of water for herself. Rhett's eyebrow raised up as he watched her.

She initially moved towards the long sofa then changed direction and sat herself at the large desk.

“You are looking well. How are the children?”

“They are fine. I am fine. All Atlanta is fine.” Scarlett stomach was tight with worry and anticipation. “What do you want, Rhett? You spoke of some secret?”

“It's not a secret. I want to speak to you about our marriage.”

Scarlett's heart began pounding harder. She kept her composure. “Is that what you call it?”

“Exactly my point. How discerning of you, Scarlett.”

She wasn't sure if that was meant to be a compliment or not. She could never tell with Rhett. She held her tongue and waited for him to continue.

Rhett focused on carefully rolling the ash off his cigarillo. Finally he spoke.

“I want a divorce.”

“No!” Scarlett cried out. She hadn't expected this, not this.

“Hear me out, Scarlett. I have had a lot of time to think about this. My mind has thought of little else.” His black eyes met hers. He began his declamation, one that seemed practiced and rehearsed to Scarlett's ears.

“You don't like being married, you told me that when I foolishly proposed to you. And I swore I was not the marrying kind and yet I thought, - - well we've been through all this before. I don't like being married any more than you do.” He looked down at his cigarillo again. “The thrill is gone, long gone. It is time to move on for the both of us.”

Scarlett breathed in deeply, forcing herself to hold herself before she said something she would regret till her dying days.

“I understand that Ashley is gone now, but I am sure you would never be without a partner to dance with, should you choose.”

“You are wrong Rhett as you were so often before. Ashley never meant anything to me and you should have known that, if you had really loved me you would have.”

Rhett sneered. “Hmm, and how was a husband to know that his wife actually loved him when she mooned over another man, thought of him constantly, supported him, dreamed of him?”

“I want a divorce Scarlett. I am a single man and should have stayed one.”

“Yet you still wear your wedding ring”

“Only to keep the lonely widows and mother's angling to marry off their spinster daughters at bay.”

“You are such a liar, Rhett.”

“In many things, yes but not in this, Scarlett. I want my freedom.”

“It seems to me you have had it for the last year. Why now are you so desperate to divorce?” A horrible thought came. “Are you, have you, is there someone else?”

“No.” Rhett was brusque. He stubbed out his cigarillo.“I have reached the point where I need this final cutting of all ties.”

“Why?”

“To heal.”

Nothing he had ever said had hurt so much as those two words. Scarlett rose from her chair and stepped towards him. “My answer is still no. I won't divorce you.”

“Yes, you will Scarlett.” His tone was harsh. “You will accept that I don't love you and that I don't want to be in this sham of a marriage any longer. I had hoped you would have realized this by now. I am not leaving Atlanta until you have agreed.”

Scarlett shook her head. “No.”

Rhett moved to her, grasping her arm tightly. He rubbed his thumb along her jaw. Scarlett looked up at him, her lips trembling. He moved his face close to hers as though to kiss her. “You love money Scarlett. Isn't that your true love? For ever day you delay you will find I am less generous with my settlement. If you want anything you will agree to my terms quickly.”

“You fool Rhett. Is that why you think I won't divorce..  
The door burst open and Ella crashed in, throwing herself at Rhett.

“You are home Uncle Rhett!” She screeched as she held Rhett tightly “You are home! I have missed you so much.” She then began to giggle loudly. “ Oh, goody gumdrops, now Wade will have to sleep in the attic with the ghosts!”

 

 

 

_Phew, that was a bit of long slog wasn't it? Though most of you will know, many freed slaves did end up taking their former masters surnames as their own, hence the new owners of Twelve Oaks being named Wilkes and Kirk._

_Also, the asterisked quote is, as you all know, from the book written by Margaret Mitchell._

 

 

 


End file.
